


Just Too Much

by AtinyBitofaMess



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Feels, Breathplay, Choking, Clubbing, Depression, Drinking, Emotional, First Time, How Do I Tag, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Making Friends, Mutual Pining, NSFW, Sad, Self-Discovery, Sex worker Yeosang, Slow Burn, This is a whole mess I'm sorry, ahh idk what im doing, bad home life, kinda????, plot with some porn, will update tags as things progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:20:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26695912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtinyBitofaMess/pseuds/AtinyBitofaMess
Summary: Jung Wooyoung lives a quiet, unassuming life in which his best (arguably only) friend is Choi San and his parents are never satisfied with his continual efforts. He attends university as a chemistry major (not his decision), living off campus on his own. He's used to being alone, most of the time.His mental health isn't the best, but he doesn't think it's anything to be concerned about when he's busy trying to live up to his parents expectations. His parents never believed mental illness was a real thing anyway.On his 21st birthday he goes out to drink for the first time with San, and receives in unexpected gift that swiftly changes the course of his life.OrWooyoung's life low-key sucks, and for better or for worse, he meets someone that makes him feel again after being apathetic for so long, even if it's a rollercoaster of emotions. Will Wooyoung be able to stay on track to please his parents, or will it be too much for him to handle?
Relationships: Jung Wooyoung/Kang Yeosang, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Seongjoong - Relationship, Yungi - Relationship
Comments: 22
Kudos: 74





	1. It Started With a Drink

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!! This story is going to have it's ups and downs. I'm not good at writing chaptered stories so please bear with me as I learn 🙈 sorry the description isn't helpful I'm bad at those too ㅠㅠ
> 
> I want to become a better writer so please comment your feedback if you so choose 💞 it means a lot, good or bad! 
> 
> Alright, well... Have a good day! lol  
> -K

A text from Wooyoung's best friend San illuminated his phone screen.

_"You gonna arrive soon?"_

_Yeah, on the train now. Be there soon._  
Wooyoung replied.

It was the night of his 21st birthday, and he agreed to meet San at a local bar for ‘festivities.’ San wanted to introduce Wooyoung to the bar scene ASAP because he was, as San said, 'horribly single and miserable about it.' 

To be fair, Wooyoung had never been in a romantic relationship before. Despite that, Wooyoung knew people rarely met their ‘someone right’ at a bar. People to fool around with and temporarily occupy time, sure, but someone to spend their life with? Wooyoung laughed at the thought as he  
slipped his phone into his pocket and fixed his gaze out the window. 

***

Wooyoung walked into an average looking bar, searching the crowd until a familiar face with fingers too thick for his physique waved in his direction. _San._

Wooyoung took a seat on the open bar stool next to San, who eagerly greeted him with dual shots of whiskey. It seemed they would be wasting no time before indulging. 

"Happy birthday, dude!" San cheered, raising his own shot and sending Wooyoung his signature grin, complete with deep-set dimples. 

Wooyoung had never drank alcohol up until this point, always wanting to appease his parents. Not like it actually mattered what he did, because no matter what, he’d never be good enough for their approval. Wooyoung took the shot between nervous fingers and raised it to meet San's matching tiny glass.

"To 21!" San exclaimed, throwing the shot back with a smile as if the contents were liquid sugar.

Wooyoung followed suit, tossing the harsh fluid down his throat. He brought his hand to his mouth, coughing a bit as the burn slid down his throat and warmth slowly began to spread through his stomach.

"San, you know I love you, but what is this trash?" Wooyoung spoke between suppressed coughs.

"Whiskey!" San beamed, clearly pleased with himself. "Don't worry, you have plenty of drinks left to find your alcohol of choice."

Wooyoung groaned, the noise muffled by the booming bass of the dance floor.

"As far as I can tell, this shit is nasty. Why do people even drink?" Wooyoung said, slumping his shoulders slightly. He’d waited 21 years, and for what? Shit that tasted like hand sanitizer and burned like hot soup without the heat when he drank it? What could possibly be the fun in that?

"Oh don't be a sourpuss. Just give it some time. You'll see." San said with a smirk.

***

It was approximately an hour and six shots of various liquor later when Wooyoung announced his preference.

"I think rum's th'best." he slurred, limbs feeling heavy and loose. "S'not too bitter, n' it goes down easy."

San smiled open mouthed at him, and Wooyoung wondered when his best friend had gotten so many teeth.

"Why'd'ya take me t’ a bar, n'not jus' drink w’me at home?" Wooyoung questioned, downing another shot of white rum.

"Because there's a certain someone I want you to meet." San said all too coherently, clearly practiced in holding his liquor.

He sent a text out, phone screen darkening when he finished.

"He's already here, but he's probably busy out back."

Wooyoung chewed his lower lip at the idea, imagining just what this mystery person might be up to at a bar and 'out back.'

He must've been thinking for too long, because when he tilted his head up he was met with doe-like brown eyes that were sharp at the corners, and a face surrounded by a swath of honey-brown hair that lay messily against the newcomer's forehead. There was a splotch of faintly reddened skin beside his left eye, and a tiny part of it, separate from the rest, sat gorgeously on the outer corner. It looked like delicate rose petals blowing in the wind. 

Wooyoung took a slow breath in and let his eyes travel down, taking in the person's lilac hoodie -some brand he currently couldn’t read- and tight matte leather pants. His feet were adorned with lilac Doc's. _Matching._  
If Wooyoung was being honest, the man before him was _perfect. ___

__"Yeosang." The stranger spoke with a hand outstretched, snapping Wooyoung out of whatever fantasies were manifesting._ _

___God dammit. San totally set this up. ____ _

____San glanced between the two, probably worried by the awkward silence after Yeosang's introduction, and the obvious once-over Wooyoung had given the man._ _ _ _

____"Wooyoung." He said as he shook the other's hand, which turned out to be all soft skin and firm grip._ _ _ _

____"Y’re fucking gorgeous. 've never seen sm’one s'beauiful." Wooyoung slurred, not quite able to contain his admiration. He didn't even have the shame to be embarrassed by his admission._ _ _ _

____Yeosang lifted a hoodie concealed hand to cover the toothy smile that graced his face._ _ _ _

____"I could say the same." Yeosang's deep voice was slightly muted by the fabric of his sweater, and Wooyoung could've sworn he'd died and gone to heaven. He'd be more than willing to let this angel guide his soul to the afterlife._ _ _ _

____Their hands remained clasped, Wooyoung forgetting to let go._ _ _ _

____Yeosang simply spoke again, his voice so gentle and so warm. "I love your eyeliner." He sounded genuine. San looked between the two, studying their interactions._ _ _ _

____Wooyoung dropped the warmth of the unfamiliar hand in his to delicately touch beneath his eye, remembering the liner he had meticulously smoked out prior to coming to whatever soiree San had planned for him. He nodded dumbly, still not quite sure if the man before him was real._ _ _ _

____Yeosang simply laughed again, sweet and _so_ inviting, and settled on the stool next to Wooyoung, opposite San._ _ _ _

____"I heard it's your 21st birthday. Any special requests?" Yeosang said, smile so sickeningly _sweet _it seemed like a lie.___ _ _ _

______With those spoken words, Wooyoung realized that Yeosang had a lisp. It was prominent but... endearing. Wooyoung hardly processed what was happening, busy with the way his heart had picked up speed in his chest at the other sitting beside him._ _ _ _ _ _

______He continued to stare, dumbfounded and inebriated, until Yeosang made a face that was likely confusion and turned towards San._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Is he okay?" Wooyoung heard Yeosang ask in a hushed tone._ _ _ _ _ _

______"He's probably just trashed. It's his first time drinking and he's had eight shots. Don't worry too-"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Eight shots?" Yeosang cut in. " _Really? _You thought that this newbie would not only be able to handle me, but be able to handle me _eight _shots in? Oh, Sannie... You fucking owe me." Yeosang spat in mock anger, punctuating the statement with a giggle. A fucking giggle._____ _ _ _ _ _

__________Wooyoung felt the world spin around himself. He knew he heard the words the pretty boy said, but they didn't fully register in his brain as he blinked harshly in attempts to regain sobriety. Of course, his attempts failed._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Much to San's and Yeosang's surprise, Wooyoung raised his chin and hand simultaneously._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"Dance with me, Yeosang?" He asked as if they were at a formal ball, despite it being more demand than question._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Yeosang met the black haired boy's gaze and said nothing, swallowing the lump of shock that formed all too easily in his throat. He took Wooyoung's hand and let himself be led by the stumbling man to the dance floor, too curious to say no._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Wooyoung and Yeosang danced under the flashing lights for a while. Long enough that neither of them knew what time it was anymore, and Yeosang found his hands resting on Wooyoung’s hips as he ground them against his own. The strain in his pants was obvious, his head tilting back as he let a quiet breath of the black haired boy’s name fall from his lips. Either Wooyoung didn’t notice the bulge rhythmically sliding against his ass, or he didn’t care; hands above his head and body moving to the beat as easily as water conformed to a container it was poured into.  
Yeosang felt his breath catch, gripping Wooyoung’s hips tighter and leaning in to whisper against the other’s ear, just loud enough to be audible. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________“Take me home before I fuck you right here.” ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Yeosang’s tone was dripping with want, and immediately after, he nipped at Wooyoung’s ear, the younger making a choked off noise._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Wooyoung tilted his head back to lean on the honey-brown haired boy’s shoulder._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Home… y-yeah, _yes. Please, _Yeosang.”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed it! Or yell at me if you want I'm okay with that too. :D 
> 
> Find me on twitter if you want, I follow back. @ AtinyBitofaMess
> 
> Take care!  
> -K


	2. When Flying Feels Like Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Wooyoung…" Yeosang started gently, placing a hand on the younger's knee. "You know what I am, right?..."
> 
> Wooyoung scoffed. "Yea, I got th' hint." He faced Yeosang, eyes glazed over and tone emotionless. "I'm well aware this'll be our only time meetin'." 
> 
> Yeosang could've sworn he saw some kind of regret in the younger's eyes, but he ignored it. 
> 
> "Y're my birthday gift, yes?" 
> 
> Yeosang just nodded, peering into the dark brown irises of the boy beside him. 
> 
> "S'not like anyone'd wanna be wit' me otherwise." Wooyoung forced a mirthless chuckle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! I don't really know what to write here but please yell at me with comments, suggestions or otherwise. Thank you so much for reading <3
> 
> TW// mentions/descriptions of self harm scars and wounds

They were seated in a taxi, San long forgotten after his “Good luck!” and wink directed towards the pair. 

Wooyoung, not much for conversation, stared out the window at the streetlights whizzing by. Yeosang observed Wooyoung, trying to decipher the younger's thought process. Trying to understand just why San had paid for his time with Wooyoung. This boy didn't seem like the type who'd enjoy meaningless sex for the sake of pleasure, and it was obvious that he found Yeosang attractive for reasons other than being able to put his dick in him.

Frankly, Yeosang wasn't even sure Wooyoung was aware that he was a hired service. It didn't feel quite right, letting Wooyoung think this could possibly be something more than paid sex.

"Wooyoung…" Yeosang started gently, placing a hand on the younger's knee. "You know what I am, right?..."

Wooyoung's scoffed. "Yea, I got th' hint." He faced Yeosang, eyes glazed over and tone emotionless. "I'm well aware this'll be our only time meetin'." 

Yeosang could've sworn he saw some kind of regret in the younger's eyes, but he ignored it. 

"Y're my birthday gift, yes?" 

Yeosang just nodded, peering into the dark brown irises of the boy beside him. 

"S'not like anyone'd wanna be wit' me otherwise." Wooyoung forced a mirthless chuckle. 

"Kinda sucks that San knows m' type so well."

Yeosang didn't say anything after that, letting the car ride continue in silence. 

*

The ride was long enough that Wooyoung had sobered up a decent amount by the time they arrived. Wooyoung pulled Yeosang behind him into his apartment and dared to kiss him once the door clicked shut. Their lips met with warmth and want, shoes hastily discarded as they kissed their way to Wooyoung's room.

Yeosang almost felt something close to guilt from the way Wooyoung kissed him and led him to the bed as if he was romancing a lover. He was eager but careful, tasting Yeosang's lips like they were a pricey amuse-gueule to be savored. His clients usually didn't bother to kiss him, ordering him to undress and present his ass with little care for prep.

Wooyoung was just another client, and yet, Yeosang couldn't keep himself from enjoying it as he was guided by the waist to settle on top of the black haired boy's lap. It felt…  _ different _ . 

Wooyoung licked slowly into Yeosang's mouth, taking his time in exploring as his hands crept under that lilac hoodie. He mapped the lean planes and curves of Yeosang's body before sliding the hoodie up and over his head, discarding it on the floor. 

Wooyoung kneaded the muscles of Yeosang's thighs, up, up, until he paused. "May I? Touch your-" 

Yeosang laughed before he could finish, the warm sound making Wooyoung's heart swell. "Yea, dummy, it's what I'm here for. Do whatever you'd like."

"Oh, right.." Wooyoung smacked his forehead comically before cupping the globes of the brunette's ass, holding firm as he stood up just enough to turn around and lay Yeosang on the bed. 

Knees on either side of the older, Wooyoung got a good look at his naked chest, pale skin glowing like moonlight and arms resting above his head, honey-brown tresses splayed on the pillow. 

"You're so fucking beautiful, Yeosang." He leaned in to whisper against the older's lips, capturing them once more. The praise was unusual but welcome, a slight flush dusting Yeosang's cheeks. 

Wooyoung took his time, again, in ridding Yeosang of his tight pants and equally tight black lace briefs, pausing to mutter 'holy shit' and place a kiss on the hardened length that shone through the thin fabric. 

Yeosang felt strange being handled with such care; being appreciated to such a degree. When was the last time someone kissed his body until his skin felt hot, touching every little bit of exposed flesh before even beginning to remove their own clothes? He was starting to feel like  _ he _ should be the one paying  _ Wooyoung _ . 

But just as he had the thought, Wooyoung sat back on his heels, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. "I, uh- I've never… I'm not sure where to go from here." He admitted, cheeks flushing. Yeosang propped himself up on his elbows, watching the black haired boy avoid eye contact.

"Wait- really? I can show you what to do. Do you have lube?" Yeosang questioned, expression calm and understanding. 

"Y-yeah, one second." Wooyoung hopped off the bed to retrieve the half empty bottle of strawberry flavored lube from his nightstand. He turned to the brunette, "I don't have condoms, though. Sorry, I wasn't really expecting.."

"In my wallet. Lucky for you I'm always prepared." Yeosang responded playfully. 

Feeling a little awkward, Wooyoung fished the lone condom out of Yeosang's wallet, ignoring the ample wad of cash he'd likely gotten from San earlier. 

Yeosang eyed the painful looking bulge in Wooyoung's jeans as the younger turned to face the bed once more. "You wanna take those off?" He sat up to the edge of the mattress and pulled the younger closer by the belt loop. Wooyoung stumbled slightly.

"Yea, I just.." Wooyoung started, mindlessly unbuttoning his jeans. "You sure this is okay?" He lowered the zipper, sliding his pants down and toeing them off. 

"Wooyoung. It's my  _ job _ ."

"Right, right.  _ Duh _ . Sorry." Still, he felt a bit weird about it as he stepped out of his briefs, cock heavy and on display in all its engorged glory. 

"You're bigger than I thought." Yeosang breathed. 

He could've sworn he saw Yeosang's cock twitch, but the thought was cut off by the featherlight touch of the older's fingers along the underside of his length. Noticing the quiet sigh Wooyoung let out, Yeosang retracted his hand. 

"Feels different when someone else is touching you, doesn't it?" Yeosang said with a fond smile. "Here, let me show you how to put this on." 

He took the condom from Wooyoung's hand and began to tear open the package. "You don't need to worry about opening me up, I took care of that back at-" 

"No." Wooyoung protested, hand wrapping around the older's wrist. 

Yeosang met his eyes with a confused expression. "No wrap, no tap, even if you're a virgin." He said matter of factly. 

"Not that, I-" Wooyoung couldn't seem to find the words he was searching for, so instead, he dropped the lube on the bed and laid down beside Yeosang, bringing the other with him by the wrist until he was positioned above the younger. 

Yeosang gazed down at the younger, confusion flashing over his features briefly before he understood just what Wooyoung wanted. He felt compelled to kiss Wooyoung, and so he did; something soft and easy until Wooyoung deepened the kiss with a hungry tongue. 

Yeosang ground his hips down to rub their cocks together, momentarily surprised by the whimper that caught in the younger's throat from the slight friction. Lean legs wrapped around Yeosang’s waist, and toned arms found their way around his neck as Wooyoung rutted against him eagerly. 

Wooyoung broke the kiss just long enough to catch his breath before diving in to nip at the column of Yeosang's throat. 

" _ Ahh _ ," Yeosang couldn't help but moan from the attack at his most sensitive spot. "No marks, please. B-bad for business." 

Wooyoung complied, licked a stripe along Yeosang's jugular, then spoke with hot breath against his neck. "Yeosang, please.  _ Please _ touch me." 

The desperation in the younger's voice was unexpected, but he reached for the lube all the same. "You sure you want me to top? I don't usually top and it's been a while."

"I'm certain." Wooyoung punctuated his reply with a kiss just beneath the older's jaw.

Yeosang squeezed some lube onto his fingers to warm it before pressing the pad of his middle finger against Wooyoung's entrance. He rubbed circles around the pucker until he felt the muscle relax, slowly pressing his finger in. Wooyoung's brows were pinched together, and he couldn't quite decide if it was from pain or pleasure. "Tell me if I'm hurting you." 

"I've fingered myself before, just kiss me, damn it."

He didn't understand why Wooyoung wanted to kiss him so much, but he obliged- not just because it was his job, but because Wooyoung was  _ really _ good at it, and hell if he wasn't allowed to enjoy his work every now and then.

Yeosang worked Wooyoung open carefully, adding another finger and then a third at the younger's request. He swallowed the breathy moans and whimpers he drew out of Wooyoung, until Wooyoung was fucking himself down on his fingers and nearly begging to feel the older inside him. 

Yeosang removed his slick fingers from the younger, gazing down in silent questioning. Wooyoung nodded, eyes hooded, parted lips swollen and glossy. 

Yeosang rolled the condom onto his aching cock and applied more lube to Wooyoung's hole. He spread Wooyoung's legs a bit wider and lined himself up, his tip prodding at Wooyoung's entrance. 

Yeosang seemed to hesitate a moment, so Wooyoung placed his hands on the other's ass, gripping the flesh and pulling him closer until the tip breached his hole. Wooyoung moaned brokenly, eyes squeezed shut.

Yeosang, though shocked, let Wooyoung continue to guide his cock deeper into the younger, hissing quietly at the tightness. 

Once Yeosang had bottomed out, Wooyoung's hands dropped to fist into the sheets, breath coming quick and a sheen of sweat causing his v-neck to stick to his chest. His whole body felt hot, almost scaldingly so, especially in the places where their skin connected. 

Yeosang thought he looked gorgeous, though he'd never admit it. He placed a hand on Wooyoung's cheek, causing the other's eyes to flutter open. "You okay? You're sweating through your shirt." 

Wooyoung gave no answer, focused on the new feeling of Yeosang buried inside him. He glanced to the spot where Yeosang disappeared into him, noticing the contrast between glowing pale flesh and his own honey tone.

Yeossng lifted the hem of Wooyoung's shirt and began to pull it up but something red caught his eye, stopping him in his tracks. 

_ Oh. _

Red lines, dozens of them, carved into the skin just above the v of Wooyoung's left hip. They looked fresh -couldn't be more than a day or two old- and though he reminded himself Wooyoung was just a client and that his personal issues weren't his problem, he couldn't stop his eyes from scanning the exposed skin of Wooyoung's body for more marks. It didn't take long for him to notice the faint scars in the crooks of the younger's elbows, but by then Wooyoung snapped out of his daze to swat Yeosang's hands away and pull his shirt back down. 

"N-no, Yeosang. I'm  _ fine _ . Please, just  _ fuck me already _ ." Wooyoung's voice cracked, eyes shiny and desperate as they looked into Yeosang's. 

Yeosang sighed, ignoring the clench in his chest as he began to roll his hips leisurely, latching his focus onto the whines that tumbled from Wooyoung's lips. 

Wooyoung was embarrassed, but he was also full,  _ so full _ of Yeosang and his body sang with the pleasure the older gave him. He felt hot tears well up in his eyes, so he asked Yeosang to go harder as an excuse to let them fall. 

_ You’re not good enough. You’ll never be good enough. _

When Woyoung felt his breath stuttering from more than just the fast-paced slide of Yeosang's thickness into his tight heat, he asked Yeosang to go deeper. Yeosang pulled Wooyoung's legs over his shoulders and did just that, hammering into the younger mercilessly.

_ You’re such a disappointment, Wooyoung.  _

When Wooyoung's moans and whines became cries, tears streaming down his cheeks, Yeosang rubbed Wooyoung’s thighs soothingly beneath his grip and pretended not to notice. Yeosang had never had someone cry while they fucked, and he wasn't entirely sure what to do, so he let his body take control as his orgasm approached.

_ Why can’t you be more like your brother? _

Wooyoung draped an arm over his face to conceal the tears that fell too easily, pain and pleasure, both mental and physical, overwhelming his body. He felt Yeosang fist his cock, jerking roughly to match his pace, and soon after, Wooyoung’s body responded with an orgasm that hit like a freight train. Yeosang worked him through it even as his hips stilled and Wooyoung felt the barely there pulses of Yeosang's own release filling the condom. 

_ You’re good for nothing.  _

When Yeosang slid out, Wooyoung willed his tears to stop but they only came on stronger. He laid there, body alight with the pinpricks of pleasure and his mind somewhere far off from reality. He heard rustling, the sound of his door being opened, and soon after felt a warm damp washcloth dabbing at the burn of his entrance.

After Yeosang finished the cleanup, he carefully helped Wooyoung back into his underwear, rubbing the ache out of his thighs and calves when he had completed the task. 

"Wooyoung." Yeosang spoke after a while of no sound but the younger's quiet sobs and sniffles. His heart ached in a way it definitely shouldn't have, something that felt too close to pity sitting like a rock in his stomach. Pity for the boy who cried while Yeosang took his virginity, for reasons he knew were unrelated to the misfortune of his first time being with a sex worker that his best friend hired for his birthday. Reasons that Yeosang knew weren't his place to ask about, and weren't his problem. 

Yeosang carefully coaxed the arm covering Wooyoung's face away, cradling his hand and rubbing small circles over the back of it. Wooyoung's breathing calmed a bit, and after another minute he found the courage to meet the older's newly clothed form.

"I'm sorry." Wooyoung whispered, voice so  _ small, _ brows furrowed and eyes brimming with new tears. 

"No,  _ no _ Wooyoung. Don't be. It's alright, I promise. But you came all over your shirt and I don't think you want to sleep in your own jizz." Yeosang tried for humor. "Though maybe I'm wrong." 

Wooyoung breathed out a shaky sigh, letting Yeosang pull the sullied shirt off his torso. His body still felt like lead, and he doubted he could walk, so he instructed Yeosang on where to find a clean shirt. After Yeosang helped him into a cozy long sleeve sleep tee, he got comfortable under the covers. He drifted a little bit, and when he opened his eyes again it was to Yeosang standing in the doorway.

"Stay?" Wooyoung foolishly asked, despite already knowing the answer. Yeosang had seen more of him than anyone else ever had, in more ways than one. He felt like he owed the other some kind of apology, some explanation, since he was sure that crying clients wasn't typically part of the job description. 

"You know I can't." Yeosang schooled his expression into something that didn't show the thousand-pound anvil of guilt weighing his shoulders down. 

Wooyoung nodded, a solemn smile on his face that looked all too forced. "I know... Thanks anyway." 

Yeosang stepped back into the room to place a chaste kiss to the younger's forehead. He wasn't sure why, but it just felt like the right thing to do. "Goodnight, Wooyoung." 

And then the honey-brown haired boy was gone, the warm spot he'd kissed and the ache in Wooyoung's body the only evidence that he'd ever even been there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that was okay >_<
> 
> Feel free to comment something so I know how I'm doing :D  
> If you'd like, follow me on twitter, @ AtinyBitofaMess ! I follow back   
> I really want to improve my writing, so thank you for coming along for the journey as I practice!   
> Stay safe and take care! <3  
> -K


	3. Coffee In the Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as you don’t expect a sudden flash flood on a summer afternoon, Yeosang hadn’t expected the mudslide of butterflies to bury him alive. Not at all, and absolutely not so quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry this took a while, I had really bad writer's block and I've been in kind of a weird place mentally. Anyway I hope you enjoy :D
> 
> TW// mentions of self harm, description of self harm scars/wounds, mentions of depression related weight loss.  
> Please leave a comment if I forgot to TW something!

Wooyoung awoke with a splitting headache. Much to his dismay, he could perfectly recall the events of the evening prior, the memory only serving to make his head pound harder. 

He rolled out of bed, groaning when his feet hit the floor and his legs buckled beneath him. He certainly didn’t think he would be this sore. He steadied himself with a hand on his nightstand, something papery beneath his palm. It was a wad of cash with a business card on top. He picked up the business card; stark white with nothing but ‘Yeosang’ printed on the front in typewriter font. Upon further inspection he found a number discreetly printed in raised glossy white ink on the back. He set the card atop the cash with a sigh, making a mental note to call Yeosang to return the payment. It's the least he could do after the poor dude had to put up with his crying. 

It was Sunday, and Wooyoung thanked the stars for that fact as he popped two tylenol and settled at his desk with a cup of black coffee. Unfortunately, he still had a pile of homework to finish before class the next day and it wasn't going to do itself. So he resigned himself to the mind-numbing torture in the silence of his apartment. 

* 

It was evening when he ventured from his room into the kitchen for more coffee. The four walls of his living pace felt confining, again, and he ignored it as he loaded the Kurig with his next dose of caffeine. 

The apartment his parents rented for his college years had been a decision made without his opinion, because according to his parents, campus life would 'distract him from his studies' and God forbid he make any friends or actually  _ enjoy _ being in college. It was a 30 minute drive from campus, it was lonely, and he was used to it, for the most part. Hardly interested in finding new friends outside of San and the few acquaintances he interacted with; Mingi who worked at the campus bookstore, Seonghwa the chemistry major, Yunho the friendly barista, and Hongjoong the art major who always seemed to be in the library when he was. Wooyoung had  _ plenty _ of social interaction, at least by his parents' standards. 

So yeah, Wooyoung was used to his mostly solitary existence. He was thankful for the privacy every time a depressive episode reared its ugly head. Being alone when he felt the urge to slice into his smooth flesh was both a blessing and a curse, simply because no-one was there to stop him or talk him down. He loved it almost as much as it reminded of just how  _ alone _ he was. 

Wooyoung swept the thought of x-acto knife relief beneath the mental rug as he added sugar to his bean juice, subconsciously. 

He winced at the first sip. It was far too sweet, meaning it had more than absolutely no sugar. When had he added sugar?  _ Gross _ . It reminded of something else sugary-sweet that was lingering on his mind. Something far from cringe inducing. 

Yeosang’s touch. 

He shook his head to clear it of the dextrose-laced memories. That's when it hits him. He'd started crying when Yeosang fucked into him. He sighed, ignoring every reason why that might've happened and pressed his pen to paper. 

***

A rhythmic knock sounded on Wooyoung's door. 

"Huh?" He mumbled, blinking the sleep from his eyes. When had he ever slept on his own couch? When did he even lay down? He reluctantly dragged himself up to answer the door. 

"Hey, Wooyoung. Have a good birthday?" 

Wooyoung rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Yeah, I suppose I did. Why?" 

"Well, it's Monday night and I hadn't heard from you yet. I assumed it was either mind-blowing or horrible, since you weren't answering your phone."

_ Shit.  _ He slept through all his classes. Wooyoung made a quick prayer to a god he didn't believe in that it wouldn't affect his grades. 

"Uhm, yeah. Yes, it was awesome. Thank you, San. For everything. For Yeosang and such." 

San just beams. "I'm glad you had fun. Thinking of looking for a boyfriend finally?"

"You know I can't. You know how my parents are…". 

_ "Well, you may be a disappointment, but at least you aren't gay. Then you'd really be a lost cause." _

Wooyoung realized then that none of his family had called to wish him a happy birthday. 

"Ah, fuck them. They'll get over it." San lets himself in, grinning while he makes his way to the Kurig. If Wooyoung was a country, coffee would be his biggest export. 

_ No. No, they wouldn't.  _

Wooyoung thinks to himself. "Yeah." He musters a partially not fake sounding chuckle. 

*

They’re sitting on the couch and watching the Office as per San’s recommendation, even though he knows Wooyoung’s english is significantly less fluent than his. Wooyoung understands maybe a third of it at most, but laughs when San laughs because it feels like the right thing to do. He usually does what San wants, within reason, since he couldn't care much one way or the other. 

It's around 10pm when San says his goodbyes and Wooyoung is left to his own devices once more. He figures he should probably go find his phone since he's been dead to the world (other than San) since Saturday night. 

As expected, his phone is amongst the lump of clothing left untouched on the floor of his bedroom. No new texts, and only one call; from his best friend. Wooyoung eyes the bundle of cash and innocent looking business card perched on top of it. He makes a mental note to call Yeosang at some point and return it to him personally. Wooyoung didn't have the heart to tell San about how it went down, and he believes Yeosang deserves payment for the hassle. 

  
  


***

The end of the week came slowly but without incident. Wooyoung turned in the rest of his assignments on time and miraculously the professor cut him a break for the late work from Monday. Apparently being a diligent student has its benefits when you make a rare mistake. 

Honestly, Wooyoung was impressed he was able to finish everything else in a timely manner, what with the guilt from the night of his birthday weighing on his mind. But, like a soldier, he made it to the weekend, and on Friday evening he called Yeosang.

***

Saturday afternoon, San invited Wooyoung to the club again. The idea of drinking sounded nice, but he kindly declined the offer because Yeosang would be coming over at 8PM. He left out the last part, opting to tell San that he had some essay he wanted to get a head start on. Which wasn’t  _ technically  _ a lie, since he did have a paper due next week. 

Wooyoung killed time tidying up his apartment while listening to music. He put away the minefield of clothes on his bedroom floor, he did the dishes that were ripening in the sink, and even found himself vacuuming, dusting and disinfecting. Cleaning wasn’t something Wooyoung was particularly fond of, nor was it something he really cared about. It was, however, something he did when he was nervous.

At the end of it, he took a look around the apartment to see if he’d missed anything. The place was so spotless you could practically see the cartoon sparkles gleaming off the smooth surfaces, but Wooyoung wasn’t quite satisfied with it. Wasn’t quite sated. With nothing left to frantically clean, he cleaned himself instead. 

Once Wooyoung had been thoroughly scrubbed raw and the steam became suffocating, he twisted the shower off and dried himself. The mirror stood before him, clearing seemingly by the second as the steam was swept out the open bathroom door. 

_ Is this really me? When did I get so thin? _

He turned his head this and that way, scrutinizing his reflection; the angle of his jaw, the slope of his neck, his adam’s apple that jutted out more noticeably, and his eyes that seemed to sink in just a little more than the last time he looked this closely at himself. 

Dry, Wooyoung dropped the towel from his waist. He was thankful the mirror wasn’t a full length, but he couldn’t help but notice his legs had thinned out a good deal as he stepped into his briefs. 

Miraculously, he was well toned despite never actually working out. He was lean with prominent muscle on his thighs, chest, and arms, and even had a smattering of faint muscle on his abdomen. 

To anybody with eyes, Wooyoung was the picture of an attractive 21 year old male. To Wooyoung, he was lacking entirely. He never paid much mind to his physical appearance, but for some reason the image reflecting back at him felt unfamiliar and unsatisfactory. Especially when his fingers absentmindedly traced over the healing cuts on his stomach. They stood out a deep burgundy over a tan background zebra-ed with scars old and new; a physical record of the suffering he'd been silently bearing for years. 

Wooyoung dressed quickly and smoked out his eyes with a kohl stick. A call from Yeosang made him aware of just how much time he'd spent warring with his mind in the bathroom, kicking his ass into gear. It certainly didn’t feel like two hours, but time is a construct so what did it matter? With Yeosang 5 minutes away, Wooyoung let his bangs hang over his forehead instead of styling them and went to slip on his favorite comfy shoes.

*

Seeing and talking to Yeosang again wasn’t  _ horribly  _ awkward. Only mildly so. Yeosang greeted Wooyoung with a smile and something in his eyes the younger couldn’t make out, going so far as to hug him in the doorway. The weird kind of hug where someone is just wrapped around you and your arms are pinned to your sides, but you let it happen anyway because you aren’t really sure what to do. Wooyoung wasn’t used to hugs - even San, clingy as he was, knew better than to invade his best friend’s personal space like that- but something about this hug was kind of comforting, as uncomfortable as the position was. He just hoped Yeosang couldn't feel the nervousness banging pots and pans in his chest. 

When Wooyoung placed the money in Yeosang’s palm, he immediately knew it was the very same he had refused to accept last weekend. Still, he took it with a practiced smile and asked the younger what he wanted to do that night, like he would any other client.

“Oh, I-… You don’t need to do anything.” Wooyoung counted the number of times the laces crossed over each other on his Vans.  _ Fourteen. _

“You can go home if you’d like. I just wanted to make sure you got compensation for putting up with me last time," 

Wooyoung shifted on his feet as he continued, "I'm sure you haven't had to have sex with someone who was crying before."

"Really, it's nothing, Wooyoung." Yeosang's cold smile melted into something more genuine. 

"It's not the first time I've made someone cry in bed. Though usually it's from pleasure." Yeosang giggled briefly at his joke. 

"But now that you've paid you've got me for the night. So are you gonna let me in or am I gonna stand in the doorway all night?"

*

Wooyoung didn’t have much to do in his apartment, so they ended up in front of the TV with cups of coffee, Wooyoung’s black and Yeosang’s sweetened to the nines. Some idol variety show was playing, one of the members doing his best rendition of ‘sexy baby shark’ even though it was awfully cringey at best. Wooyoung wondered if in some alternate universe he might have been an idol, smiling and laughing with seven friends close enough to be considered family. 

Yeosang’s laugh, warm and hearty, brought him back to reality. “I can’t believe they make them do that shit.” 

Wooyoung felt his lips pull up at the corners. Yeosang was stunning, mug in hand and a faint coffee mustache on his upper lip, his eyes crinkled slightly at the edges. He had to set his cup down to keep from spilling it in his amusement. 

“Oh, fuck me, now they’re doing splits? What’s the point of that?” The older’s head was thrown back in laughter.

“Some kind of weird sex appeal, maybe?” Wooyoung guessed. “I mean, that one’s pretty damn flexible.” 

"No kidding, his balls are practically on the ground. Man, I need to stretch more." 

"Oh my god, dude…" Wooyoung huffed a laugh, running a hand through his hair. 

He had no idea the older was so entertaining, and he was enjoying himself. Any inkling of awkward tension had long since thawed, like an autumn frost turning dewy under the early morning sun. 

"Hey, I'm not wrong. Being able to do  _ that  _ would be great for business." Yeosang smirked in his direction. 

The coffee mustache clinging to the other’s upper lip remained, Wooyoung's eyes lingering long enough for him to take notice. 

"What? Is there something in my face? Did I-," Yeosang's fingers came up to touch his face, brushing over the coffee remnants. His tongue darted out to clear the offending liquid away. 

"Ah, sorry, I tend to get stuff on my face when I eat." 

He used the paw of his sweatshirt to dry the area, but also to cover the suddenly shy grin that was accompanied with a light flush of his round cheeks. 

_ A minute ago he's talking about balls on the ground and now he's shy about something on his face? Is this man even real? _

For a moment Wooyoung calculated his response, not wanting it to come out wrong. When he responded it was in a too-small voice, eyes fixed on the other even though he'd turned to hide his embarrassment. "Next time, let me get it."

"Huh?" Yeosang faced the younger. "What was that?"

"I said," Wooyoung took a deep breath to calm his nerves, willing his heart to stop slamming around in his ribcage. It felt fluttery, a different, more intense kind of nervous warming his veins. He knew it wasn't the coffee, but he couldn't quite place it.

_ Why the hell do I feel like this? What's happening?  _

"N-next time, let me get it. I-if you want…" 

He predicted Yeosang would laugh, make some kind of joke-  _ anything  _ other than to lock eyes with him, reach for his coffee and take a long sip, not looking away as he returned the mug to the table with cheeks fully flushed. 

At the sight of that vague line of wet, Wooyoung’s stomach flipped. 

_ If that’s not a blatant invitation, I don’t know what is. _

He scooted closer to Yeosang, coming to kneel with one hand on the cushion behind the older as he gently held his chin. Wooyoung leaned into the Yeosang's space, nose brushing his as he let his tongue fall just past his bottom lip to kitten lick at the sugary fluid. Yeosang's eyelids fluttered closed, a tiny gasp escaping him. Task completed, the younger kissed him once, soft and patient before pulling back. 

At the loss of warm, plump lips, Yeosang gazed up at the younger, words unwilling to form in his throat. The expression he was met with was all too fond, and it made his heart twist. Wooyoung was beaming, and it looked  _ so _ good, so real, and so different from the tears that clung to his lashes when he was on top of him. Inside of him. 

Gingerly, Wooyoung tucked the older's bangs behind his ear to reveal that beautiful rose petal birthmark. 

“What the hell are you so pretty for?” 

He breathed against Yeosang's lips before capturing them once more. It was comfortable, saccharine sweet, tasted like how he imagined a loving home might feel. 

With each careful movement, small raindrops fell, increasing in size until a downpour was falling on the both of them. Yeosang pulled Wooyoung into his lap, well aware that no umbrella could save him from the storm that was Wooyoung. 

  
And just as you don’t expect a sudden flash flood on a summer afternoon, Yeosang hadn’t expected the mudslide of butterflies to bury him alive. Not at all, and absolutely not so quickly. There was just something about Wooyoung, and he  _ couldn’t quite place it _ . He resolved to not think about it, instead tilting his head and deepening kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment to let me know what you think! Motivate me to write <3 lol
> 
> If you're interested you can follow me on twitter, @ AtinyBitofaMess. I follow back :)  
> Take care and see you next time~


	4. Glass Skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Hope you're able to enjoy this chapter. I'm not sure if I'm rushing things or not, but I'm happy to hear your opinion in the comments. 
> 
> For those of you who don't know, "Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge" is a My Chemical Romance album, and Gerard Way is the singer. "I Brought You My bullets, You Brought Me Your Love" is another album by MCR, and "The Runaway Found" is an album by The Veils.
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy!

He had never meant for the night to go this way, he swears. Swears he simply wanted to pay Yeosang properly for the night of his birthday, and that would be that. Yet somehow, he's  _ completely _ naked and on display while the boy with honey brown hair is pressing kisses into his thighs, hands holding his legs up by the backs of his knees. He barely heard Yeosang ask permission, nodding lazily in response and flinching at the slide of a warm tongue against his rim. 

He hadn't requested anything of Yeosang, and he thought it strange that the older would pursue him of his own volition.

_ Why would anybody want me? My personality sucks, I don't do much, my body is marred, and I'm a disappointment to my family. A waste of time and space.  _

He reminded himself that although he was the one who kissed Yeosang, the older was the one who had taken things further, resulting in the current situation on the couch. It may not have made any logical sense in his brain, but it was happening. 

So Wooyoung, legs twitching at each lick to his rim, lifted his head to watch the older at work. He was met with warm brown eyes gazing up at him, view partially obscured by his hardened length weeping against his stomach. 

"Yeosang…" 

Wooyoung didn't realize he'd whispered the other's name until he heard Yeosang's deep voice hum, and then the sensations stopped. 

"Yes? Is this okay?" 

"Y-yeah… I just.. don't understand  _ why _ ."

Why what?" Yeosang's breath was hot as it fanned over his entrance. 

"Why you want to do this," A brief flush dusted over Wooyoung's cheeks, not going unnoticed. 

"I can stop, if you'd like me to." 

"I do want it, it's just…" Wooyoung ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself for his stupid insecurities. Yeosang waited patiently, Wooyoung's face twisting as if burdened with a particularly difficult math problem. 

With all his insecurity, how was he able to so easily lay before Yeosang, on full display? He mulled it over, concluding that it wasn't something he was going to understand at this given time. 

"Nevermind." Wooyoung caught a glimpse of his own softening hard-on as he met Yeosang's gaze. "Sorry if I killed the vibe." 

Sensing that something more was swirling in Wooyoung's mind, Yeosang dropped his legs and moved up until he was eye level with the younger. "Don't apologize, Wooyoung. But I would like to know what's on your mind, if you're willing to share." He tried. 

Wooyoung let out a breath, idly fiddling with the fabric of Yeosang's sweatshirt. “I mean, the first time we...  _ did things _ ... It was a paid job for my birthday. Now-”

“Now,  _ I  _ want to touch you. No money, no strings.” Yeosang began kissing down Wooyoung's smooth chest.

Not quite grasping Yeosang’s quick explanation, Wooyoung continued. 

“But I don’t understand  _ why _ . Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. I guess I just can’t fathom it. This is only the second time I’ve seen you and nobody's ever desired me like this-” 

He cut off with a whine when Yeosang sucked his nipple into his mouth, tongue laving over the bud a few times before releasing it. 

“Does it really matter?” He spoke with lips brushing tan skin. 

“N-no, I guess it doesn’t.” Wooyoung swallowed thickly as Yeosang continued kissing down, down.

“I just wanna know, of all the people you could have, what about me makes you want me?”

After placing a kiss just above Wooyoung’s belly button, Yeosang responded. 

“I wish I had an answer myself.”

Wooyoung felt lips on the tender flesh above his left hip, an uncomfortable jolt shooting through him like electricity. All at once, the cold clutches of panic grabbed at his body, causing him to sit up fully, breath coming quick. 

“Yeosang!” He couldn't help but shout, though there was no hostility in his voice. 

Unwavering, Yeosang made it a point to pepper kisses along the healing wounds and multicolored scars while the younger watched him, eyes wide and hands curling into fists to keep from shoving the other off of him. Kisses were placed in the crooks of his elbows, along his shoulders, on the tops of his thighs, and finally over his heart, where the other lingered for a moment before placing one last kiss on the spot. 

When Yeosang finished, he gazed up, something vulnerable in his expression. 

“I honestly don’t know, Wooyoung. It scares me as much as it confuses you.” 

Neither of them said anything at that, just trying to read the unspoken words that hung in each other's eyes. Whatever was going on, it was new to both of them. A terrifying, thrilling reminder that they're alive, like running through an open field during a thunderstorm, daring lightning to strike where it may. 

Yeosang resigned to putting his mouth to use on the black haired boy, coaxing him back to full hardness. He zeroed his focus in on the task of pleasuring Wooyoung just like he had so many others, silencing the many thoughts threatening to take hold of his mind as if he were any other client. It almost hurt to do so, but he did so dutifully, drinking in the boy's high pitched moans like it was nothing. It was all he could do to keep from saying something stupid that he definitely didn't mean. He wanted to do this, and so he did. Simple as that. Nothing more to it. He  _ absolutely _ wasn't going to spend time wondering why he felt the need to pleasure Wooyoung. 

When Wooyoung's release hit his tongue, he did his best not to catalogue the taste, swallowing it down with practiced ease. He popped off the younger's cock and spent a few seconds watching Wooyoung's chest heave for air, lips parted and eyes closed. He let his hand come up to cup Wooyoung's face, thumb stroking over his cheekbone. When the younger noticed his actions, he froze and retracted his hand. 

"Wooyoung, I… Should probably go." 

He wanted to leave before the twist in his chest had a chance to grow stronger. Half of him was telling him to stay, to remain with the younger through the night and to be there when he wakes. Yeosang knew better than to do that, even if he'd never been in a scenario where he wanted to stay. It had never been difficult for him to leave, and that's exactly why he had to. 

Wooyoung opened his eyes, his expression something between disappointed and understanding. Yeosang averted his gaze. 

"You know how it is..."

"Yeah, of course," Wooyoung responded, still slightly breathless. "But you haven't gotten off." He eyed Yeosang's fully clothed form, not missing the cock that strained against tight jeans. 

"Don't worry about me, Wooyoung. All part of the job." 

Yeosang said, mostly to remind himself that he couldn't be developing feelings for a client. Tonight was a mistake. Yeah, that's all it was. Something was off in his brain, and as a result he was starting to treat Wooyoung differently than others. It was unlike him, and it was something that could prove to be problematic if he didn't nip it in the bud. 

*

Yeosang stood by the front door and forced his best smile in the younger's direction. "Take care." He whispered.

Not a 'you know where to find me' or 'call me if you need me', but rather something more final to help convince himself that this was it. To help convince Wooyoung. 

The pretty, troubled boy was not his problem and not his to have.  _ Nobody _ was, and if he started getting selfish now he'd no longer be able to have a successful career. It was either this or work in retail or fast-food, neither of which would be enough to live comfortably on. 

Wooyoung said nothing, just watching the older leave until he heard the click and beep of his front door sound. He fell back into the couch, too lazy to dress himself and get in bed. He laid there staring at the ceiling until sleep took him under. 

***

"The usual?" Yunho said with a smile more radiant than the sun and equally as blinding. 

"Yeah, you know me." 

After he heard his name called, Wooyoung retrieved his iced black coffee.

“Rough night, buddy? You look more bent up than usual.” Yunho asked, genuinely meaning well. 

“Nah, just college. You know how it is. Lot’s of shit to get done.”

“Alright, well, if you need to chat you know where to find me.” Yunho said before turning towards the espresso machine to fulfill the next order. 

Yeah, Wooyoung  _ did _ know where to find him. Yunho was almost always working at the coffee shop near Wooyoung's apartment, and sometimes he wondered if he lived there. He imagined Yunho’s hair and clothes smelled like freshly ground coffee no matter how much he washed them.

Yunho was a good guy who always made friendly efforts to reach out. Even Wooyoung could tell he wanted to be friends, but he figured his hands were full enough with San that he didn’t really need another friend. All the same, Yunho treated him as if they actually were friends, even if their longest conversations were when the older had break and sat at Wooyoung’s table while he was working on an essay or something. 

Wooyoung didn’t mind the interruptions, since Yunho mostly just talked at him while sipping some form of caffeinated frappe drink and indulging in a croissant. 

That's exactly what ended up happening as Wooyoung scrolled mindlessly through social media he never used except to check up on the latest routines of his favorite dance groups. He was supposed to be working on a paper but kept trailing off to thoughts of Yeosang. It had been a full two weeks since he last saw him, and something ate away at his gut from knowing he wouldn't see him again. Yeosang would come if he was called for business, but Wooyoung felt like that wasn't the context in which he wanted to see the other. He chewed his bottom lip, wondering for the nth time if the other had thought of him at all since then.  _ Of course not. Why would he give a shit about me? _

"Earth to Wooyoung." Yunho snapped his fingers playfully in front of Wooyoung's line of sight.

"Dude, anybody home? I've been talking for like, 5 minutes. What's going on in that head of yours?" 

"Sorry, man. I'm struggling with how to word this."

Yunho leaned his tall self over Wooyoung's screen, catching a glimpse of the latest choreography from TTtrippin'. "You're watching dance teams again. What's wrong?" 

As was his nature, Yunho was spectacular when it came to reading others. Wooyoung hated it but he was basically an open book to the other, no matter how much he tried to hide his true self. Knowing he couldn't talk to San about this issue, and accepting that he'd been caught red handed, Wooyoung yielded. 

"Alright, fine." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed deeply. "There's this guy, and for some reason I can't stop thinking about him."

A low whistle came from Yunho, who then took a bite of croissant and chewed thoughtfully. "Sounds like he's something special."

"I don't really know… I mean, he can't be, he's-" Wooyoung stopped himself and adjusted the trajectory of his statement. "He's not available." He was not about to tell Yunho that he was hung up on a prostitute. 

"Oh I'm sorry dude, that's rough. There's this cutie who works at the bookstore at x university- that's your school right?- and he comes in sometimes on his way home to get a mocha frappe. He makes me feel like I'm walking on hot coals. But like, in a good way? Like it's some kind of spiritual awakening. I think I like him but I have no idea how to tell him. He always chats me up when he comes in, and yesterday he asked if I liked videogames. Like, yeah, of course I do!"

At that point Wooyoung had begun to subconsciously tune Yunho out. As the other kept talking, Wooyoung began to wonder if that’s anything like how it felt when he was with Yeosang. 

_ You’ve only seen him twice. There’s no way you could possibly be in love with him. _

*

San invited Wooyoung to early 2000’s night at a nearby bar. Wooyoung agreed, of course, because all his favorite music was from back then. He parked a few blocks away, arriving with ripped black skinny jeans, a sleeveless  _ Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge _ t-shirt, and eye-makeup to rival Gerard Way’s. His forearms were adorned with black wristwarmers that reached his elbows, chains zig-zagging across the tops of them. His ears held razor blade earrings, cliche but glinting silver in the moonlight nonetheless. His hair was styled into his face once again, dark strands contrasting against the blended red of his eyeshadow and the blurred cherry tone of his lip tint. Wooyoung looked positively dead inside and, to be fair, he kind of was. 

San whooped and hollered when he caught sight of Wooyoung entering the establishment, ready with shots of rum at the bar counter. Wooyoung was just as ready to get smashed and, if he was lucky, forget all about Yeosang. He had a feeling he'd be calling a cab when all was said and done, and didn't know why he'd bothered to take his car there.

“Holy shit, you look amazing!” San clapped his hands together approvingly.

“What can I say? I was meant for the early 2000’s.”

They chatted casually, Wooyoung being sure to avoid any talk of the first or second time he’d seen Yeosang. San talked excitedly about someone he’d met a bit before Wooyoung arrived. Some guy younger than him by a year who got in with a fake ID, eyes racooned with an emotionless stare, muscles on display through a tight  _ The Runaway Found _ t-shirt. Apparently, the boy had gone to the bathroom and would return soon. 

The two best friends shared three shots of rum before Wooyoung questioned if San's mystery man was ever going to come back. 

Just as Wooyoung finished his inquiry, a serious faced buff guy came walking in their direction; behind him, a boy with messy honey brown hair and an _ I Brought You my Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love _ hoodie. Wooyoung’s heart paused briefly at the sight of smokey gray eyes, black Doc’s and one of those cheap stretchy plastic chokers around a long, pale neck. 

_ Yeosang _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that was alright >_<  
> Comments and Kudos very much appreciated!
> 
> If you'd like to, follow me on twitter @/AtinyBitofaMess
> 
> Take care and see you next time :)  
> -K


	5. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear readers, long time no see :D Sorry this took so long to get out. I'll explain that in the ending notes, but for now here are some songs that I listened to *many* times while writing this chapter. 
> 
> The Ghost of You- My Chemical Romance  
> Demolition Lovers- My Chemical Romance  
> Gravity- Audiovent  
> Underwater Silence- Audiovent  
> I Don't Care- Fall Out Boy  
> Into You- A Whisper In The Noise  
> Blurry- Puddle of Mudd  
> Vicious Traditions- The Veils  
> More Heat Than Light- The Veils  
> Epiphany- Staind  
> Change- Staind  
> And I- Box Car Racer  
> Regrets and Romance- From First to Last  
> (Untitled Hidden Track)- From First to Last  
> Burn- Three Days Grace  
> Take Me Under- Three Days Grace  
> With You- Linkin Park  
> By Myself- Linkin Park  
> Room 409- Bullet For My Valentine  
> The End- Bullet For My Valentine  
> Yellow Belly- Thrice  
> You Know You're Right- Nirvana  
> The Bends- Radiohead  
> You- Radiohead  
> Razorblade- The Strokes  
> Eden- TesseracT  
> Wake Up- The Walkmen   
> Ignorance- Paramore
> 
> ANYWAY I hope it was worth the wait. >.<

Sickeningly fast, he felt panic seep into his blood like venom. Yeosang was here, and Wooyoung was trapped with nowhere to run or hide. 

Wooyoung  _ knew _ San would be introducing his newest hot male interest to him, and it seemed Yeosang was there with said male interest; that they would all end up in conversation about fuck knows what because  _ damn _ , could San talk, and the cheerful man didn't have a socially anxious or awkward bone in his body. 

It was going to be a  _ long  _ night, he decided, turning to the bartender to order a double shot of rum. It was passed over the counter to him with a cute little slice of lime, the wedge of green citrus probably intended as some form of relief from the burn that twice the liquor would bring. After downing the rum, he discovered that the lime didn't help, it merely redirected the bitterness from one taste to another.  _ Ironic.  _

It was then that he remembered Yeosang's presence, reminded by San's excited shout of "Jongho! Welcome back! And- Yeosang? Fancy seeing you here. Love the contacts!"

Wooyoung held back a groan, suddenly very much not in the mood for San's friendliness. 

Before either of the newcomers could answer, San was making introductions, cheerful voice contrasting his  _ Staind  _ t-shirt.

"Jongho, this is my best friend Wooyoung. Yeosang, I'm sure you remember him." 

Lucky for San, Wooyoung couldn't see the suggestive brow waggle that accompanied the statement. 

Now obligated to join the budding conversation, Wooyoung swiveled on his stool to face the others with a tentative smile. He felt it grow when Yeosang's eyes met his, and the older returned it, quickly concealing the grin beneath the cuff of his hoodie. 

After a moment's pause, Jongho's eyes went wide like a deer caught in headlights. "Oh, so  _ you're  _ Wooyoung!" He exclaimed with a nod of understanding, and something stirred in Wooyoung's gut at the recognition. 

_ Has Yeosang talked about me?  _

Then there was a yelp as Yeosang landed a swift elbow into Jongho's ribs and promptly informed the youngest that he'll kick his ass to the moon if he says anything further. Something told Wooyoung that Jongho would easily win that fight, but the youngest seemed threatened enough to mutter an apology and take a seat next to San in defeat. 

Yeosang quickly schooled his expression into one of indifference and sat beside Wooyoung, ordering a shirley temple with rum. "So,  _ My Chemical Romance _ . You're a fan?" He sipped his drink. 

"Yea," Wooyoung picked at the cuticle of his thumb as he spoke. "My favorite song is  _ The Ghost of You. _ And yours- wait, let me guess.  _ Demolition Lovers _ ?"

"Actually, yeah, it is. How'd you know?" Yeosang chuckled behind his palm. 

"It's pretty obvious, from those ice blue contacts," Wooyoung dared to glance at the older's artificially colored irises, "and your shirt. I'm actually smart, in case you didn't know." He tilted his chin up in a display of mock arrogance.

Yeosang turned to take another long drag of his sugary concoction, Wooyoung watching the way his soft lips wrapped delicately around the straw. 

"Touche." That was all Yeosang said before San dragged the two into conversation with Jongho. 

They talked about life. 

Jongho: a star college basketball player and top student. 

Wooyoung: a top chemistry student who wanted nothing more than to be a dance major. San: finished with gen eds and trying things out before he settles on a major. 

Yeosang: working to make ends meet. 

Although everybody present knew, nobody questioned Yeosang's choice of work. 

A bit of casual chatter later, San had settled comfortably in Jongho's lap, peppering kisses along the youngest's neck and whispering sweet nothings into his ear. The youngest had his impressively large hands on San's svelte hips, helping him grind down against him. 

Yeosang cleared his throat and motioned to Wooyoung that they should make themselves scarce, lest they be exposed to their best friends making any form of nasty in front of them. Wooyoung agreed easily, chest warming as Yeosang took his hand to guide him to the dance floor. It felt familiar in the best way. 

Not much dancing was happening, most people just nodding their heads to the music while making small talk. Understandable, considering the song playing was  _ Gravity  _ by  _ Audiovent.  _

Wooyoung's heart pumped at an anxious pace as Yeosang pulled him near until their bodies were flush. It felt like the right thing to do to sling his arms around the older's neck, and so, he did. 

Yeosang thought he was overstepping his boundaries by being so close to the younger, but was doing his best to come off as calm and collected, despite his insides twisting. He knew he wanted to be physical with the black haired boy, but he wasn’t ready to sort out the thoughts of wanting  _ more  _ than just that. He yearned to kiss Wooyoung, to feel the warmth of his lips, but kept his hands resting lightly around the younger’s waist.

They stood there motionless, Wooyoung's stomach flipping at the proximity. The alcohol was numbing his inhibitions, but he felt all too sober to be this close to the man who had plagued his thoughts for the last few weeks. Still, he wanted more. 

Thoughts stewing, they simply stared into each other’s eyes as the music surrounded them.

_ “I'm not the enemy _

_ So don't you let me die _

_ I'm caught in the gravity _

_ And you're the sky.” _

In that moment, Wooyoung wanted to kiss Yeosang  _ so badly _ he thought he might implode if he didn’t. He wondered why that was the case. He’d never desired anyone so strongly before, and it came as a shock to him, even after everything the two had done together. He longed to be closer to Yeosang in more ways than one, and he had no idea why or what it meant. 

_ What is this? What’s wrong with me? Yeosang is just- There’s nothing between us. I was nothing more than a client. There's no reason for me to be feeling this way.  _

He told himself that, but clearly none of it mattered when he ended up with lips pressed against Yosang’s, guiding the older until his back collided gently with the wall. 

It was then that the song finished _ ,  _ and  _ I Don’t Care  _ by  _ Fall Out Boy _ began playing loudly around them.

_ "Say my name and his in the same breath." _

Yeosang hesitated for a second, watching Wooyoung’s eyes flutter closed, his own following suit soon after as he relaxed into the kiss. 

_ "I dare you to say they taste the same." _

Wooyoung fisted his hands into the fabric of Yeosang's hoodie, pressing their chests together. 

_ "Let leaves fall off in the summer." _

Their lips moved together languidly, savoring each movement. Yeosang wondered if he'd ever kissed so tenderly before Wooyoung. 

_ "And let December glow in flames." _

Yeosang teased the seam of Wooyoung's lips, and the younger obliged, letting him deepen the kiss. 

_ "Erase myself and let go, start it over again in Mexico." _

Their tongues waltzed together at a pace slower than Yeosang would've prefered, but Wooyoung kept it leisurely, each movement meticulous. 

_ "These friends, they don't love you." _

Yeosang tasted overpoweringly of grenadine, Wooyoung noted, but the tongue that explored his mouth was too hot and eager for him to care about the overwhelming sweetness. 

_ "They just love the hotel suites, now."  _

Warm hands crept up Wooyoung's shirt, fingertips dancing on his hips and sending shivers down his spine. 

_ "I don't care what you think as long as it's about me." _

A toned thigh slotted between Wooyoung's legs, rubbing little circles against his crotch to match the beat of the song. He whined pathetically, dragging Yeosang’s bottom lip between his teeth.

_ "The best of us can find happiness in misery." _

Then Yeosang's hand were on Wooyoung's ass, cupping the supple flesh and squeezing impatiently. 

*

They ended up in a bathroom stall, Yeosang spreading open mouthed kisses along Wooyoung’s neck and eliciting quiet whines from the younger. Back pressed against the cold plastic, Wooyoung’s skin tingled where Yeosang sucked a faint bruise just below his jaw. His body was alight with the sparks of want, but his mind was far off, curious about how San had come to know Yeosang. 

They went back to tasting each other's lips, until Wooyoung could no longer bear the thoughts ping-ponging around his brain. That was when he broke the kiss, panting shallowly into the crook of Yeosang's neck, to which he dropped his hands to rest on Wooyoung’s waist. Yeosang rubbed his thumbs cautiously on the flesh of the younger's hips, careful to avoid his still-healing wounds. 

With a deep breath, Wooyoung gathered his courage. "Yeosang… I need to ask you something.”

“Yeah?”

He didn’t want to voice the question stuck to the tip of his tongue, but he knew fine well of San’s promiscuous side, and few men as attractive as Yeosang eluded the flirty man’s grasp. There had to be a reason why San knew Yeosang, and it wasn’t for work, because San certainly wasn’t struggling to get some. He hoped beyond hope that his fear wasn’t reality.

“How did you meet San?”

The older brushed his fingers idly through Wooyoung’s hair. It was a caring action that happened automatically as he answered, 

“We met at the Twilight Lounge a bit over a month ago. Why?”

Wooyoung’s heart clenched painfully in his chest. He didn’t have to be a customer to know that the Twilight Lounge was a place that singles of every orientation went for hookups. He chewed the inside of his cheek, contemplating whether or not he wanted the full story, before deciding it was best to know. That he  _ needed  _ to know. 

“D-did you… Sleep together?” 

The seconds of silence that followed were excruciating, Wooyoung’s eyes fixed on the floor as the older formulated his answer. Yeosang wasn’t sure why the other cared about that particular detail, considering he was quite aware that he was a prostitute. 

Once enough time had passed to make it awkward, he finally offered his response.

“Yes. Once.” 

The admission made Wooyoung’s insides curl in disgust. He pushed Yeosang off of him and the older collided with the opposite wall of the stall, a noticeable  _ thunk _ resounding. Wooyoung had no time to be sorry, insecurities and confusion wracking his brain. He struggled to grip the situation in full, stomach lurching more by the minute. 

"Y-you fucked him... and then fucked me? No, accepted payment from my  _ best friend  _ to fuck me for my birthday when  _ you  _ had already fucked him?!" Wooyoung threaded his fingers through his own hair, tugging at the dark strands uselessly. 

Yeosang stood dumbfounded and unsure what to do as he watched the younger crumble before him.

"San.. he- he slept with you, and then found out  _ what you are _ ," Wooyoung's tone was dripping with contempt, even if he didn't intend it to, "and then he sent you my way. As if I'm some kind of receiver of his sloppy seconds." Wooyoung fought the urge to wretch at the idea of San above or beneath Yeosang. 

Yeosang winced at 'sloppy seconds' as if he'd been slapped. 

"Wooyoung, it's not like that." Yeosang scrambled to pick up the pieces that were falling off of the younger’s shattering form. He took a step toward the black haired boy, who in turn stepped back. 

"Then what  _ is  _ it like?!” Wooyoung snarled. 

Yeosang swallowed heavily, the realization settling in his gut like a lead ingot. 

After a beat, Wooyoung let out a shaky breath.

“I- I just need to be alone." 

Wooyung wasn’t sure why he was so put off, but he was, stepping back again when the older reached out for him. "I have to go." He said abruptly, taking another full step back from Yeosang, who had been nothing but honest with him and was now looking at him with concern painting his stupid fucking godly features. 

He fumbled with the door’s lock without looking, all the while staring at Yeosang with the expression of a kicked puppy. Once the lock had been disengaged, he slammed the door open and bolted out of the bathroom. 

He couldn't hear the other call his name as a worried question. Not over the sound of his own thoughts or the blood rushing in his ears.  _ It’s just his job _ , he reminded himself.

_ It wasn’t a job when he spent the night with San _ ,  _ and what’s San’s excuse? _ The dark side of his brain loudly interjected.

Wooyoung pushed through the crowd until he found himself at the bar counter. He took a seat, breathless, and ordered the first of many shots. 

*

Yeosang fixed his hair in the bathroom mirror, feeling sobered (in every sense of the word) after what just went down. He was pretty sure he’d colossally fucked up whatever the hell was going on between him and Wooyoung, and that whatever chance there was of it blossoming into something more was out the window. He felt like an asshole, but San hadn’t explicitly said that Wooyoung was his  _ best  _ friend. Just that he had a friend who needed to get laid ASAP, and that Yeosang was  _ totally  _ said friend’s type. It was just meant to be a simple birthday gift.

_ Life would be so much easier right now if I had never met San and Wooyoung. _

__

With a damp paper towel, he wiped the remnants of Wooyoung’s lip tint from his mouth.

_ I can live with him hating me, I just hope I didn’t ruin his friendship with San. I get the feeling he doesn’t have many friends to lose. _

Cherry red stained the material, its resemblance to fresh blood making his skin crawl.

_ I should find Wooyoung. Make sure he’s okay.  _

He shook his head roughly to clear the image, as if his mind was an Etch A Sketch. 

_ Ugh, what the fuck am I thinking?  _

_ I can’t believe I allowed myself to start to care about a client. _

With a sigh, Yeosang crumpled the paper towel and threw it into the trash bin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had written the entire chapter and then after mulling it over for a while I decided that it wasn't how I wanted things to go down, so I scrapped it and started over. The original chapter had a lot of triggering graphic content, and the conflict wasn't very well fleshed out. Basically I was going through it and projected it into the story and it ended up rushing things and going south real fast, so. yeah. 
> 
> Don't worry, I won't give up on this story! So if I haven't updated in over a week I am likely struggling with accurately saying what I'm trying to say. There's lots more to be written! As always, thank you for reading and for putting up with me through this long journey (ha). Stay safe, take care, and see you next time!
> 
> Find me on twitter @ AtinyBitofaMess if you'd like. I'm kinda antisocial but I follow back :)
> 
> -K


	6. Fuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was thinking about which exam he should study for first when he turned the corner from the elevator bay into the short hallway and stopped in his tracks. San was sitting on the rough berber carpet, back leaned against Wooyoung’s door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW// mentions of rape.
> 
> Hello! I struggled with this chapter but it's close enough to a weekly update to count as that, right? I hope you enjoy!!

Wooyoung would’ve gone home to get wasted, but he knew it was well past beer-thirty, so his options for procuring alcohol were limited to bars, and he was already in one, so why leave? He drank quietly, thankful that nobody had come to bother him while he wallowed in his sorrow. He wasn’t really paying attention to the music playing around him, but when _Fallen_ by _Thirty Seconds to Mars_ sounded through the speakers he slumped over the counter, resting his forehead on his arms. The song was all too familiar to him; something he’d listen to at times when he was feeling down on himself.

_ You’re so fucking weak. Look at you, so lost. So bothered bunch such an insignificant detail. Pathetic _ . Wooyoung forced his eyes to shut more tightly, willing the negative voice away. 

_ He didn't know! He wasn't trying to hurt me. _

The voice didn't let up.

_ Who wasn't? San, or Yeosang? San betrayed you. Yeosang wouldn't have cared either way. He's a whore. A sex addict just using you because you're easy.  _

He gritted his teeth.  _ Yeosang isn't like that. San- San…  _

_ San what? Sent his happened-to-be-whore hookup your way after he had his fun with him? As some kind of sick idea of a gift? Clearly he doesn't give a fuck about you. You’re not worth it.  _ The dark voice rattled around in his skull like a clapper in a possessed bell. 

He lifted his head, blinking a few times in attempts to clear his mind. With the courage of one final shot, he made his decision. 

He stumbled off the stool and into the crowd, pushing through people in search of the cause of his wrath. He wasn’t sure who he was going to punch first, but he knew he needed to hit at least one of the two traitors. 

In his haste he slammed full force into someone, sending them both careening to the floor. Wooyoung landed on his hands and knees, and within seconds the person who checked him into oblivion was scrambling to help him up, apologizing profusely. Now upright (or as upright as the alcohol would allow) he noticed the person was slightly shorter than him with a smaller build. He saw two of the man before him, but he'd recognize that blinding silver hair anywhere. 

"Wooyoung? Oh my god, are you okay!?" It's Hongjoong, the pretty little art major he's talked to in the library a number of times. The red plaid skirt he wore over black leggings was  _ not  _ his usual pair of well loved skinny jeans, but it complimented his form all the same. With a mask of makeup heavier than his usual eyeliner, and a  _ blessthefall _ shirt, he looked completely in his element. He knows enough about Hongjoong to know that he absolutely loves angsty music, which would explain why he was here on this particular night.

Wooyoung rambled off something about needing to kick someone's ass, which has Hongjoong immediately steering him back towards the bar to get a bottle of water.

Hongjoong seemed to be totally sober, and after a bottle of water and a package of miniature pretzels, Wooyoung can see straight enough to explain to the older what happened, even if it comes out in mostly slurred words laced with anger. Wooyoung had no idea why he dumped all his personal issues on the smaller man, but Hongjoong just has that motherly aura about him that would have anyone asking for advice if given the opportunity. 

Before he knew it, Wooyoung had one extra number in his phone and was standing outside with the shorter man, waiting for a cab. 

"Once you get home, you need to drink two glasses of water and head to bed." He was still holding Wooyoung's phone, presumably texting himself so he would have the number. "Text me if you need anything. If you haven't texted me by tomorrow night, I'll send you a message. Got it?" 

It was a lot at once for Wooyoung, who nodded dumbly as he was handed his phone and ushered into the newly arrived taxi. 

***

When Wooyoung finally blinked into consciousness, the remnants of late afternoon sun were retreating beyond the horizon. In its wake was the early darkness of winter evenings and the distinct scent of frozen precipitation. Snowflakes whisked in by the breeze landed on his cheeks and nose, peppering the skin with cold that melted into little flecks of wet. 

He doesn't remember opening the window that his bed is pushed up against, and the events of last night are a hazy blur. He  _ does _ remember quite literally running into Hongjoong, the older consoling him for some reason, and the fact that he now possesses the smaller man’s number. He was supposed to message him about something, right? Just a few more minutes of relaxation before he’d bring himself to check his phone. 

  
  


Wooyoung basked in the gentle prickling of snow on his face like a cat in the sun; a sensation he has always enjoyed, and often leaves his window open to experience on nights of winter weather when his brain was brewing a storm of its own. He felt kind of melancholy and his head was pounding like hell, but the fresh air soothed his senses. 

Waiting in his phone's notifications was a text from his dad that included a photo. Further inspection revealed that it was a screencap of his credit card bill- the card his parents gave him to use for school and food expenses- along with the words ‘ _ What the hell did you spend $75 at a bar for? I didn’t send you to college to drink. It better not happen again.’  _

Wooyoung left the message on read because he knew his father wouldn’t reply anyway.  _ No call or text on my birthday but it takes him less than 24 hours to ream me out for drinking. Asshole. _

His phone vibrated in his hand, nearly giving him a heart attack. 

**Hongjoong Hyung~ ^∇^:** Hey Wooyoung! Doing alright?

_ Damn, he really keeps his word, huh? _

**Wooyoung:** ain't dead yet lol

**Hongjoong Hyung~ ^∇^:** Well that's a start. I'm bringing food over, where am I headed? 

It was a statement, not a question, and as much as Wooyoung wanted to be alone to finish up his homework, the thought of actual sustenance was too tempting. So, he sent his address. 

**Hongjoong Hyung~ ^∇^:** Oh damn, you live off campus. I'll be there in like 45 minutes. 

**Wooyoung:** yea, sorry. if it's too far I understand. 

**Hongjoong Hyung~ ^∇^:** No, not at all. I'll take the train and get food in your neighborhood so it's still hot. See you then! 

And that was that. Wooyoung wondered why Hongjoong gave a shit, but he appreciated the sentiment anyway. It was actually kind of… nice, to be cared for.

*

With impeccable timing, Hongjoong arrived just as Wooyoung had finished drying his hair after a hot shower. In his hands, the smaller man held two very full looking bags, and he raised them with a blinding grin as he stepped inside. “Delivery for Mr. Wooyoung!” He was wearing gray sweatpants and a matching hoodie, large clear framed glasses perched on his nose and a beanie concealing his silver locks. Apparently, even his casual outfits were carefully curated. It was the first time Wooyoung saw Hongjoong without makeup, though he was still wearing all his piercings, and he was just as radiant as always. He wished he had at least an ounce of Hongjoong's beauty. 

"What's for dinner?" Wooyoung inquired, his stomach growling in response to the smell of meat.

"Galbitang." Hongjoong settled the bags of takeout on the coffee table.

"Sweet, that's one of my favorites.” 

“Really? Me too!” Hongjoong plopped onto the couch and began unloading containers from the bags. Clearly Wooyoung had much to learn about him. 

Removing the lid from the final container, Hongjoong broke the silence. ”Do you want to talk about it? You were a little out of it last night. Y’know, drunk as hell.” Something in the air shifted. 

“Honestly, I don’t really remember what happened.”

“Oh, Wooyoung…” 

There was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach at the pitying look Hongjoong sent his way. He wasn’t close with the older by any means, but he didn’t need to be to know that Hongjoong was extremely easy to read. Wooyoung briefly pictured Hongjoong as a stained glass window; complex and technicolor, but transparent enough that the sun shone through and casted a warm glow on everyone around him. However, what Wooyoung was feeling now wasn’t warmth. Instead, he felt worry stick to him and threaten to suffocate him like cling film wrapped around his head. He dared to take a breath, hoping he wouldn’t suck the flimsy plastic into his lungs. 

Hongjoong, bless his soul, took the time to relay to Wooyoung every detail he had shared in his drunken state. When the realization came back full force, Wooyung felt like he should cry or throw up, but he pushed the disgust down and opted to pour his rice into the steaming soup before him. Hongjoong seemed to sense that Wooyoung didn’t want to discuss it further, and changed the topic to the planning of his upcoming printmaking final. 

***

New day, same old shit. Wooyoung trudged through his classes on autopilot, suffering through lectures on things he couldn’t care less about and taking notes with robotic accuracy. He always took impressively organized, detailed notes for all his classes. He even colored coded them so he could reference them in the future with ease, which was currently of the utmost importance, since finals were next week. 

During lunch break he avoided the cafeteria like the plague, knowing that San would be there. The idea of eating was about as appetizing as maggot infested meat anyway, so he found himself in the library, studying. Surprisingly, he was able to take his mind off the whole San and Yeosang situation for the remainder of his lectures. 

*

The key slid into the ignition smoothly, and with a flick of his wrist the engine roared to life. Wooyoung quite liked driving, so he was happy to be picking his car up from the bar. It meant he would have time to listen to music and decompress before studying when he got home. It also meant that his commute could be spent alone, rather than in the company of strangers on the train. One day of that was enough.

Vehicle safely parked and locked in the apartment lot, Wooyoung took the elevator to his floor. He was thinking about which exam he should study for first when he turned the corner from the elevator bay into the short hallway and stopped in his tracks. San was sitting on the rough berber carpet, back leaned against Wooyoung’s door. 

For a moment before San noticed him, he weighed the possibility of making an escape. His heavy book bag would make running difficult, and fleeing from San, whose lithe body allows him to run fast enough to rival Usain Bolt, didn’t seem like a viable option. Wooyoung wished they were in some alternate universe in which he could simply teleport away from the awkward encounter. 

Then, San caught sight of him. He was significantly happier to see Wooyoung than Wooyoung was to see him, and made it known as he stood and waved at the younger. "Wooyoung! I didn't see you at lunch and you didn't answer my texts, so I came over to hangout." 

_ Yeah, there's a reason for that.  _ Wooyoung had turned his phone off specifically so San wouldn't bother him. 

He keeps his mouth shut though, offering a nod as he typed in his pass code. 

San doesn't seem to like the lack of response, and as Wooyoung shoulders past him and enters the apartment, San stops the door with his foot and follows him in. "Something wrong, dude? Bad day?" 

Wooyoung wants to spin around and clock San in the dome, but instead he kicks off his shoes and lets his bag hit the ground with a thud. "I guess you could say that." He grits out, anger starting to bubble like acid eating away at his skin.

"What happened?" San, now freed of his shoes, steps into Wooyoung's line of sight. 

" _ You. _ You slept with Yeosang." Wooyoung's tone was dark as a starless sky, but the weight of it didn’t reach San. 

"I sle- oh, yeah. He told you?" San was nonchalant about it, just another name in his book of hookups. 

It set Wooyoung off like a thousand fireworks. The fuse was lit, and it was just a matter of time until he exploded into shapes and colors. His heart started pounding uncomfortably, a sickening combination of pissed off and anxious. He dug his nails into his palm, desperately fighting the urge to punch San into next year. He strided over to the kitchen and retrieved a mug from the cabinet, placing it beneath the Kurig. His favorite Columbian roast loaded into the machine, he closed the lid with a satisfying click and pressed the brew button. “Yes, he told me.”

“Isn’t he cute? A pretty little thing. I sure do know how to choose ‘em, right?" He chuckled. "I knew you’d like him.” San joined Wooyoung in the kitchen, gathering materials to make ramyun. 

Wooyoung watched the coffee begin to fill the cup, eyes fixed on the delicate curls of steam that rose off the accumulating liquid.  _ Delicate, like Yeosang. Flowers in a thunderstorm.  _ “Yeosang is too beautiful for this world.” 

San set the water to boil in a pot on the two burner range. “Right? Can’t believe he even went for me.”

Coffee ready, Wooyoung took the mug in hand, speaking as he waited for the boiling drink to cool. “Well, you’re just as much of a whore as he is. He just gets paid for it.” The can of worms had been opened, and there was no going back now. 

Except, instead of being offended by the obvious insult, San just laughed. “You’re not wrong. He-”

"What did he sound like when he came?” Wooyoung continued, firework number one taking to the sky. “Was it as beautiful as wind chimes in a warm summer breeze?" The pyrotechnic blew up, little sparks of gold and silver bright, fizzling into the atmosphere. To San, Wooyoung seemed calm as ever. 

“His cheeks were flushed pink, but he was kinda too drunk and out of it to do much when he came.” San plunked the noodles into the water. "I'm surprised he remembers it at all." The older stirred the seasoning packet into the mixture. 

He startled when Wooyoung's mug slammed onto the floor, spilling shards of ceramic over the tile, and with it, boiling hot liquid into the fabric of the younger's pants. “He fucking  _ what _ ?!” Wooyoung exclaimed on instinct, ignoring the scorching flesh beneath his jeans. It would definitely leave a mark. 

“H-he was too out of it… Bro, are you okay?” San knelt to lift the younger’s jeans, but Wooyoung kicked in his direction, sending San off balance and falling onto his ass, catching himself with the heels of his hands. “Wooyoung…?” San asked in a voice much too weak to be his best friend’s. 

“ _What_ _did you do_ to Yeosang?” Wooyung seethed. 

San was practically shaking where he sat. This was a side of Wooyoung he had never seen. “I-I… Was fucking him, and, h-he fell asleep halfway through.” 

The ramyun was boiling on the stove, ignored by the two men. 

“And  _ what did you do _ ?” Wooyoung felt like his skin might fry off from anger alone. 

His best friend crawled back a few steps, voice wavering. “Kept…” San swallowed loudly. “Kept going, u-until I c-came.” 

When Wooyoung lifted the pot of ramyun, San thought it might be cast in his direction, and covered his face with his forearm. However, the younger threw the pot at his own feet with an inhuman growl. The boiling water that splashed up against his legs would no doubt scar him, but the younger ignored it. Semi-cooked noodles lay at Wooyoing's feet, likely burning them too. “Are you trying to tell me you fucking _ raped _ him?!?” 

San clambered to his feet, backing against the fridge. “N-no, he just-” 

“He just what? Fell asleep, so you thought it was cool to  _ keep going _ ?!”

Wooyoung was in San’s face now, fury etched into his features. “I was pissed off because you _ fucked _ him and then paid him to fuck me," He cracked his knuckles, legs bursting with pain from the burns. “But apparently you  _ also _ took him when he wasn’t able to give permission.” 

The older swallowed again. “N-no, that’s not how it went.”

“Oh, I bet it fucking was. And then you had the nerve to send him my way, as some kind of  _ fucked up _ gift. How the fuck was _ I _ supposed to feel?” Wooyung wailed. “He took my goddamn virginity, San!” Wooyoung’s fist curled into San’s wool sweater, pushing him further against the fridge. San's fingers scrabbled against the younger's out of instinct, be he didn't dare pry them off “And _ you _ . You fucked him _ first _ . Hardly with his permission!” 

Wooyoung ran his free hand through his hair roughly. 

“I-I'm sorry, dude, I didn’t know! I didn’t think it would mean that much-” 

Wooyung felt the last bit of reserve exit his body. “I fell in love with him after seeing him twice like a fucking moron! And you fucking  _ raped _ him! Then sent him to me like some kind of.. Some kind of  _ sick _ fucking offering.” Wooyoung’s insides curled, and he almost hurled on the spot, pushing San further against the fridge. 

“Hrghh... W-Wooyoung, I d-didn’t know!” San choked out, nubby fingertips attempting to lesson Wooyoung's grip to no avail. 

“Oh, but you knew enough to keep fucking him when he was unconscious. You fucking  _ rat _ .” He slammed San against the fridge, then dropped him, watching him slide down to the floor and scramble to his feet. He said nothing, eyes terrified. 

“Get  _ the fuck _ out of my apartment, asshole.” Wooyoung growled, pointing towards the door. San stood frozen, the person before him an unfamiliar monster. “I  _ never  _ want to see you again, you  _ piece of shit _ .” Wooyoung thundered, the statement final. 

Terrified, San complied, wordlessly shoving his shoes on and leaving as if he’d never been there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh so this was hard to write. I really wanted to properly convey the conflict between Wooyoung and San, and I hope I did that?? Anyway comments are appreciated and kudos are welcome! Let me know what you think :)
> 
> Follow me on Twitter if you want. I'm antisocial but I follow back! @/AtinyBitofaMess 
> 
> Please wear a mask and properly sanitize if you have to go out. Covid-19 is on the rise in the USA due to all the people who traveled for Thanksgiving. Stay safe and see you next time <3
> 
> -K


	7. You Deserve Nothing and I Hope You Get Less

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Shit, Wooyoung. Hold on, I'll be right there."
> 
> Before his brain had the time to tell him that whatever was going on wasn't his problem- that this was definitely a bad idea- Yeosang was frantically throwing a beanie on over un-styled hair and shoving stockless feet into his boots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW// mentions of burns, mentions of self harm, mentions of rape 
> 
> Hello~ I had 3/4 of this chapter done early but of course my ADD made it difficult to finish and edit. Anyway here it is! A day late ^^' 
> 
> Please enjoy <3

Time is a strange thing. Sometimes it appears to pass too quickly, a fleeting thing; blink and you’ll miss it. Other times it drags on, slow; an hourglass filled with black treacle instead of sand. Time is personified: they say it flies when you’re having fun, and that it can even stand still as if the world around you has paused. In Wooyoung’s case, time ceased to exist. There were no windows in the closed off space of his kitchen to indicate how light or dark it may be. The oven clock that he never bothered to set blinks 00:00 at him, but he’s not paying attention. 

He’s just barely aware enough to know that he’s kneeling, and to feel the sensation of wetness. Wet on his cheeks, wet on his shins and feet, wet on his... The clatter of something metal colliding with tile brought his soul back into his body. Air forced into his lungs and it stung as much as it brought relief. Like finally surfacing and taking that first breath after being underwater too long. Blood rushing in his ears, Wooyoung filled his chest with more glorious oxygen.  _ One, two, three, four, five.  _ He released the breath slowly through his mouth.  _ One, two, three, four, five.  _ He repeated the process again and again until the fog in his brain cleared and he could no longer hear the hammering of his own heart. 

Finally, he assessed his surroundings. He's kneeling in a mess comprised of coffee, shards of ceramic, lukewarm noodles and broth. The cheap aluminum pot lay like a fallen headstone some feet in front of him. A small paring knife is beside him, blade reddened and mocking him. The sleeve of his favorite hoodie is roughly hacked off just above the elbow, holding on for dear life by a few threads; unsalvageable. The crook of his elbow is steadily leaking crimson colored fluid, slowed a bit where the wound was beginning to clot.

When the weight of what happened hits him, he realizes he doesn't want to be alone. It's not a feeling he thinks he's ever had before, and it makes him feel vulnerable.  _ Weak _ . He's been through this before, and he always picked up the pieces of his broken self in solitude. But now, he's scared of himself. More than that, he's overwhelmed with the need to talk to someone. 

***

“How much for a night?” 

The call came when Yeosang was finishing up a late dinner of dak-galbi takeout. He picked up without checking who it was, assuming Jongho had some absurd new story to tell about the hot dudes on his basketball team. However, it was just another rando soon-to-be-client looking to get a piece of ass for a fair price. The stranger didn’t bother to say hi, jumping right into business. Yeosang rolled his eyes and swallowed his bite of chicken before answering.

“300 dollars, even. Do you want me tonight?" 

"Y-yes." The caller sounded tentative, almost scared, but Yeosang brushed it off. Plenty of people got nervous about hiring him. Prostitution was illegal, after all. 

“What’s the address?”

The line went silent for nearly a minute. He was about to ask if the other was still there when a very broken sounding call of his name came through the speaker, followed by soft crying. His heart shattered at the familiar sound.  _ Fuck, how come I couldn't tell sooner? _

" _ Shit _ , Wooyoung. Hold on, I'll be right there." 

Before his brain had the time to tell him that whatever was going on wasn't his problem- that this was  _ definitely _ a bad idea- Yeosang was frantically throwing a beanie on over un-styled hair and shoving stockless feet into his boots. He left in a rush, consumed by the worry of what might be wrong. Strangely, he also felt anger. Anger towards whoever or whatever caused Wooyoung to cry.  _ It must be something bad if he called me and not San.  _ He pushed the thought away, praying Wooyoung at least wouldn't be hurt. Praying he didn't hurt  _ himself _ . 

His feet moved on their own, carrying him through the streets towards his destination. The cold air bit through the thin material of his pajamas and attacked his throat as he ran, but he didn't care. He needed to get to Wooyoung, and running was the fastest method since the younger lived rather close. He could ask himself why he felt so strongly about needing to be there for Wooyoung later. For now, he just ran. 

*

Yeosang practically doubled over in front of Wooyoung's door, hands on his knees as he heaved to catch his breath. His thighs burned, his feet ached from friction, and his throat felt like it was full of razor blades. He was pretty sure he could taste blood as he coughed.  _ Damn, I need to stop smoking.  _

Once he'd caught his breath enough to feel like he wasn't dying, he banged on the door three times. No response. 

"Wooyoung, I swear to God if you're fucking dead in there I'm gonna break your neck." It came out as a whisper, void of hostility. "Please,  _ fuck _ -" 

His heart pounded harder than when he had been running.  _ Why the hell am I so nervous?  _ He fished his phone out of his pocket, going into his history to call Wooyoung.  _ He was just a client. It's only Wooyoung. I hardly know him. It's just… it's  _ Wooyoung. 

Just as the first dial tone sounded, the door crept open. Yeosang immediately pocketed his phone and pushed inside, wrapping himself tightly around the body in front of him. The apartment was mostly dark, with only the light from the empty kitchen creating a dim glow. He didn't need to see. Not when Wooyoung was in his arms, shuddering with quiet sobs, and very much alive. He gently ran his hand through the younger's silky hair, letting his head come to rest in the crook of his neck. The skin there was soft, warm, and smelled vaguely like cologne. 

"You came." Wooyoung sniffled. He seemed so small like this.  _ Fragile _ . 

"Of course I did. Are you alright?" Yeosang stepped back enough to actually look at the younger. 

_ He's… missing a sleeve?  _

It was a little hard to tell in the dim light, so Yeosang reached behind him and flicked the switch on. Instsntly he wished he hadn't. 

The left sleeve of Wooyoung's hoodie was missing, obviously cut off, and tracks of dried blood ran down his arm, all coming from a decent sized cut on the inside of his elbow. It didn't appear to be bleeding anymore, so at least he wouldn't need stitches, but it was clearly self inflicted. Then his eyes traveled over the rest of the younger's body, checking for other obvious signs of damage. His pant legs were damp and stained with what appeared to be coffee, but that was about it. 

" _ Fuck me,  _ Wooyoung. What happened?"

Wooyoung made a choked noise, wiping his tears on the sleeve that was still intact. 

"How about we get you cleaned up first, hm? I'll help you if you want. Is that okay?" For some reason Yeosang felt the need to take care of Wooyoung while he was in this state. To make sure he was okay.

Wooyoung nodded, took the hand Yeosang offered and let the older guide him to the bathroom. 

*

"May I?" Yeosang tugged lightly at the hem of the younger's ruined hoodie. 

"Y-yeah," Wooyoung sighed shakily, lifting his arms. "You've seen it all, anyway. Not just the scars." 

Yeosang pulled the hoodie over Wooyoung’s head and tossed it in the hamper. “And I’m glad I did.” His voice is certain, genuine. He means it, and not just because Wooyoung is probably the most attractive man he’s ever seen. With his scars, pretty moles, full lips, golden skin, crooked fingers, almond shaped eyes, the list goes on and on.

Wooyoung is stunning. His ribs are more visible than Yeosang remembers, his hip bones sharper and collar bones more prominent, but still, Wooyoung is stunning. 

“Plus, something tells me nobody else knows about your little habit.” He has the overwhelming desire to kiss the subtle curve of Wooyoung’s perfect nose, but he knows now isn’t the time. Not when the younger had finished crying just minutes ago. 

“You’d be correct in your assumption.” Wooyoung sat on the closed toilet seat while Yeosang scavenged through the well stocked first-aid kit he was provided with.

“Is there any particular reason for that?” Yeosang tips hydrogen peroxide onto a fresh cotton pad and sets the bottle down on the sink counter. 

"It's no one's problem but my own. Even if I did tell someone, what would they do?" Wooyoung held his arm out, careful not to extend it too far and disturb the forming scab. 

He started by wiping the dried blood that had dripped down the younger's skin, then checked to make sure he removed all of it. "I'd hope they would try to get you help. At the very least, be there for you. What kind of friend wouldn't do that?" 

"My parents don't believe mental illness exists. They think it's a byproduct of not working hard enough or some shit." He winces when Yeosang disinfects his wound, pressing a peroxide soaked pad featherlight to the cut. The liquid bubbles as it grants any bacteria an early death. "San is…  _ was _ , my only friend, but always seemed too caught up in his own life, I didn't want to bug him."

Yeosang nods in understanding, carefully applying antibacterial cream. A precaution. "Bug me." He wrapped gauze around the younger's elbow, winding it a bit above and below so that when he bends his arm the injury will remain covered.  _ Protected.  _

"Bug me about it," He continued, "I've usually got shit else going on, other than work and hanging out with Jongho. I could use another person to hangout with." He secured the gauze with medical tape and let go of the younger’s arm. "I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m here if you ever need me.” 

“Thanks.” The response is short and emotionless. Yeosang is pretty sure Wooyoung isn’t going to take him up on that offer, but he doesn’t want to push it. After all, Wooyoung had ended up calling  _ him _ there that night, so he figured that was already a step in the right direction. 

Silence hung in the air as the bathtub took its time filling. Yeosang wished he had one of his usual witty comments or crude jokes to make, but it didn’t feel like the right time or place for that anyway. When the tub was finally full, he unbuttoned the younger’s jeans and slid them down, even though he knew Wooyoung was perfectly capable of doing it himself, and Wooyoung let him. He’d taken off many pairs of pants before, he realizes, but never before had he seen what lay beneath this particular pair. When Wooyoung stepped out of the jeans, he winced again, and Yeosang got a full view of the reason why.

_ Holy fucking shit.  _

Somehow, it made him panic more than the deep cut in Wooyoung’s elbow. It’s probably from the sheer amount of skin affected. He sputters a bit but tries his best to remain collected. 

“Wooyoung. What the everliving fuck happened here?” His voice is level, calm. 

Wooyoung gazed down, surveying the damage for the first time himself. “Looks like burns to me, but I’m no expert.” He was tired,  _ so  _ tired, and already plenty ashamed of himself. 

Yeosang thinks this is no time for sarcasm. Not when Wooyoung’s shins are glaring red with splotches of burned flesh spread down to his ankles, a few splotches of red on the tops of his feet. It looked like mostly first degree burns, but some dime sized blisters were present. 

"Don't be a smartass, what the fuck happened?!" Yeosang didn't mean to raise his voice, but once he had, he couldn’t take it back. 

Wooyoung looked small again, t _ errified, _ and when he spoke it was the voice of an ant. "S-an and I, we were fighting,” He hid his face in his uninjured elbow, eyes welling up with tears, “there was ramen on the stove, I had c-coffee-" 

"San did this to you? I'm gonna break that skinny bastards kneecaps with a fucking baseball bat, oh he better fucking run whe-" 

"No…" Wooyoung interjected, a pebble making tiny ripples in already stormy waters. Yeosang breathed, steeled himself, prepared for the answer. 

“I dropped my mug, an-and threw the ramen on th’ ground.” He was crying now, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I didn’t want to physically hurt him, but I was  _ so fucking mad, _ Yeosang. I don’t even know why.” 

“ _ Please _ , Woo you need to be careful.” Yeosang hardly noticed the nickname slip from his mouth. He was too busy hushing Wooyoung, holding him tight and rubbing circles into his back until he calmed once more.

*

They opted for a sponge bath instead, and Wooyoung looked a strange mix of guilty, dejected, and thankful the whole time. When it came time for Yeosang to dab the damp washcloth along Wooyoung’s privates, the younger was reactionless and his dick stayed softened. Now was not the time. 

Wooyoung dried himself off, but allowed Yeosang to aid in applying aloe to the burns and covering them loosely in gauze. Yeosang went to wait on Wooyoung’s bed as the younger dressed himself in the pajamas he dug out of Wooyoung’s clean laundry. A too-large long sleeve shirt and a loose pair of blue fleece pajama bottoms. 

*

"He raped you."

The two sat on the edge of Wooyoung's mattress, room lit by the bedside lamp. 

"It's okay, Wooyoung. I've been through worse. You haven't forgotten what I do for a living, right?" 

_ But maybe  _ I  _ have. _

"It's  _ not  _ okay!" Wooyoung retorted. His eyes were full of tears once more, and they spilled over as he spoke, streaming down his cheeks and collecting at his jaw. "He was my  _ best _ friend. I trusted him more than anyone else. I didn't think he was that kind of person. I knew he was promiscuous, but… I never thought he would have it in him to be like  _ that _ ." Wooyoung felt like a leaky faucet. 

Yeosang tried to imagine how he'd feel if Jongho had raped Wooyoung, but it made his skin crawl and stomach lurch. Jongho would never do such a thing. 

_ But maybe that's what Wooyoung is thinking of San. Maybe that's why he's so torn up. It can't be because it happened to me.  _

He didn't know what to say, so he just opened his arms towards Wooyoung. He expected the younger to accept the hug, but he didn't expect Wooyoung to climb into his lap and wrap all four limbs around him like a monkey. A very vulnerable, fragile monkey who laid his head on Yeosang’s shoulder as he cried quietly. 

"I… I don't know what to  _ do _ , Yeosang. I never want to see him again, but I've got nobody else." 

Yeosang held Wooyoung gently, ignoring the way the hot breath tickled his neck. "I can be your friend."

_ Friend.  _

The word felt wrong as it came out of his mouth. Wrong for two people who had already had sex the way they did. Wrong for the way he had kissed all of Wooyoung’s scars and then sucked him off  _ for free,  _ of his own volition. Wrong for the way Wooyoung clung to him now, like a life preserver in the middle of the freezing atlantic. 

Wrong, but that’s what it had to be. Yeosang would try to be there for the younger as a friend, even if his heart dried up and disintegrated into dust as a result. 

Yeosang  _ wanted _ Wooyoung, and Wooyoung needed Yeosang.  _ As a friend.  _

*

They discussed the San situation in depth; how it happened on Yeosang's end from start to finish, how San ended up hiring him for Wooyoung, how Yeosang wasn't happy with how things transpired but didn't really blame San since he'd been through much more traumatic experiences. Mostly, Yeosang was just pissed that San claimed to be Wooyoung's best friend and still did the younger that dirty. 

The weight on Wooyoung's shoulders seemed to lift a bit, but the damage had been done. He decided that wanted nothing to do with San anymore. He was used to being lonely, and losing a bad friend was hardly losing anything at all, right? It was kind of like saying goodbye to a defective limb; it would be missed but would probably burden him more if he didn't remove it. Dead weight. 

He'd be fine alone, and he wouldn't trouble Yeosang with his problems in the future, since he'd already troubled him a good deal. 

For now, Wooyoung felt alright, and that was good enough.

Yeosang had managed to untangle Wooyoung from around himself and get him settled under the covers. He kissed Wooyoung’s cheek in a  _ friendly  _ way, and ignored the slight blush that formed there. 

With Wooyoung’s tears dry, injuries tended to, and mood mostly stable (after a good amount of time spent cradled in the older’s comforting arms) it was time for Yeosang to leave. 

They said goodnight and said their goodbyes, but as Yeosang was closing the bedroom door, he heard a faint whisper of “I’m sorry.” He stood in the doorframe to make sure it was clear that he would not be spending the night (he  _ couldn’t _ ) and widened the gap to see the younger properly. 

“Why on earth would you be sorry? You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“For blowing up at you. You said ‘it wasn’t like that’ and I didn’t give you a chance to explain. It may have  _ started  _ like that, but that’s not how it ended. So, I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain before I yelled at you.” His voice was steady. 

“It’s perfectly fine, Wooyoung. You have class tomorrow, right? It’s been a long day  _ and  _ night, so get a few hours of sleep. You need it." 

"Yeah, alright. Thanks for everything."

"Any time." He offered a weak smile. 

Then, Yeosang was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you like how the story is going so far? Let me know criticisms and thoughts in the comments! Kudo always welcome as well. 
> 
> Thank you so much for coming along on this journey as I attempt to write my first truly chaptered story. We've got a ways to go, so I hope you continue to enjoy if you choose to follow along! 
> 
> Oh, and you can follow me on twitter if you want @/AtinyBitofaMess I'm antisocial but I follow back ^^
> 
> Stay safe and take care <3  
> -K


	8. Not Fine, Not Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the weekend came, Wooyoung caught wind of a party via Hongjoong, who invited him to come alongside he and Seonghwa, who offered to be the designated driver. 
> 
> He'd never been invited to a college party before, and for some reason he felt like he could trust the two, so he agreed easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have returned! Christmas was super hectic and I've been hella stressed with all the family related events going on. 
> 
> ANYWAY I finally had the time and energy to get this up, but I didn't edit it as heavily as I normally would because I didn't want to keep you waiting too much longer for the next chapter. I hope it's to your liking! 
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment and kudos are greatly appreciated. Thank you so much for following along and being patient. ^^ Love you all <3
> 
> TW// drinking/being drunk, very brief mention of self harm

Needless to say, class goes poorly with Wooyoung’s brain running on a grand total of zero hours of sleep. The professors are all giving review lessons for the first half of class, leaving the remainder as an open work period so everyone can study for finals, bless their souls. But Wooyoung can’t do much other than stare blankly at his textbook, despite having learned to be a diligent student. He hopes that maybe some lunch will get the juices flowing because he  _ needs  _ to ace these finals if he wants to continue having only one asshole. 

Life has a funny way of saying “fuck you,” and that came in the form of Choi San’s shrill laugh as Wooyoung entered the cafeteria. It seemed that instead of being upset over losing his ‘best friend’, San was moving on to his other friends like they had never even known each other. Some of San’s other friends, people Wooyoung never cared to learn the names of, were giving him dirty looks as he walked by. He caught the tail end of “- _ totally fucking crazy. Stay away from him.”  _ as he trudged to the counter to view today’s selection of mediocre grub. __

_ Please do, spineless lemmings. Last I checked this was college, and you’re behaving like a bunch of 13 year olds.  _

Whatever. San was never good with rejection anyway, and always resorted to anger as a way to mask his offense.  It would have hurt more if Wooyoung wasn't in a strange semiconscious state fueled by sleep deprivation. 

In his afternoon class, the final class of the day, Wooyoung was ready for the sweet release of death. He was almost certain he looked as destroyed as he felt, deep bags under his eyes and wearing his pajama shirt from the night prior. The one Yeosang had picked out. 

The professor sounded like he was speaking into a tin can, voice a muffled blur of unintelligible noises like in that American cartoon he'd seen as a kid.  _ Charlie something.  _ He doodled square after square instead of taking notes.

Seonghwa, the quiet chemistry major who usually sat next to Wooyoung and occasionally made small talk, must have noticed something was off. When independent study time began, the observant boy tapped his pen on Wooyoung's notebook to grab his attention. The page was littered with squares of all different sizes that connected at the corners. It looked something like a labyrinth. He imagined himself trapped in there, unable to find his way out, resorting to scrabbling at the sheer stone walls fruitlessly. 

"-ou alright, Wooyoung?"

"Hmm?" Wooyoung hummed, eyes fixed on the mess of shapes. 

"I said, are you alright? You seem like you're in another universe, and it's concerning."

"Ah. I think I'm alright. Weird day. Don’t wanna talk about it." Wooyoung didn't look up. 

“Let’s go for a walk. I’ll make a copy of my notes for you.” 

As much as Wooyoung didn’t want to move, a walk sounded nice, so he followed Seonghwa wordlessly. The nearest copier was in the second floor lounge by the vending machines- an odd location, but whoever put it there must have thought it would be convenient since the lounge was a halfway point between the writing and chemistry departments. 

If Wooyoung’s neurons weren’t absolutely fried, his brain might have properly registered the  _ “Hongjoong, darling!” _ that was completely uncharacteristic of the Seonghwa he knew, or the color that painted the smaller man’s cheeks from the term of endearment. He only noticed a very frazzled looking Hongjoong collect his papers from the machine. “Not now, Hwa. Busy. Text me later. Hello and goodbye Wooyoung!” He spoke a mile a minute before scurrying down the hall. 

Seonghwa looked utterly disappointed, but busied himself with copying the necessary pages. “You know Hongjoong?” He asked sullenly. 

“I guess, yeah. I bump into him at the library every now and then. He helped me out when I was having a hard time a couple days ago."

Satisfied with the response, Seonghwa smiled. "That's my Hongjoong, always thinking of others." 

_ His.  _ "Are you guys dating?" 

"Not officially, but we've, uhm… We have relations. I think he's waiting for me to pop the question, but school keeps getting in the way." Seonghwa flipped the page in his notebook and pressed the 'copy' button again. 

"You're gonna ask him to marry you?" Wooyoung tried to sound surprised but his tone came out flat. 

"God, no! It's far too soon for that. I merely meant that I think he is waiting for me to ask him out, but I want it to be perfect and I haven't come up with a plan deserving of him yet." 

"Oh. Well, good luck with that. I think he'd be happy if you just asked him any old way. Don't stress too much." Wooyoung shifted his weight from heel to heel. 

Seonghwa started the final copy. “He’s quite busy these days, but I have been considering asking him on New Years. He stays on campus during break, so maybe I’ll return early to do just that.”

“You should. Why was he on this side of campus anyway? Isn’t he an art major?”

“Correct, but he is also a poetry minor.” Seonghwa collected the copies and handed them to Wooyoung, who took them gratefully, even if he wasn’t able to show it very well. 

“That sounds like a lot. Thanks for doing this, by the way.” They headed towards the stairwell. “Sorry I’m not all there today, but seriously, good luck with Hongjoong. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to be yours, however it may happen.” He hoped that sounded encouraging. 

“You needn’t worry about it, Wooyoung.” In front of the classroom door, Seonghwa placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Just take care of yourself and study well. Finals week is a bad time to crash and burn, but it happens to the best of us.” 

_ Yeah, you’re telling me.  _

_ *** _

Wooyoung doesn't remember how he got home, but he's too tired to question it, and when his back hit the mattress he couldn’t be arsed to peel himself away from the comfort of the duvet. Studying be damned, he was going to take a fat fucking nap. 

*

It was the next afternoon when Wooyoung woke up fully clothed with his shoes still on. He dragged himself out of bed and washed up so he could at least attend afternoon classes. He really didn’t want to fucking go, but he did anyway, because he needed to know what material to study for finals. 

*

The week went by in a blur. Wooyoung didn’t end up studying much, opting to sleep because it felt a hell of a lot better than being awake with his hellish thoughts. The depression seemed to be worse than he was used to, but he was able to keep from acting out his  _ habit  _ by thinking of Yeosang, even if the boy hadn’t bothered to call or text since he last came over. Not that he had tried to contact him either. 

When the weekend came, Wooyoung caught wind of a party via Hongjoong, who invited him to come alongside he and Seonghwa, who offered to be the designated driver. 

_ Yeah, I could use a fucking drink.  _

He'd never been invited to a college party before, and for some reason he felt like he could trust the two, so he agreed easily. 

*

The party was supposed to be christmas themed but Wooyoung did  _ not  _ get the memo. Hongjoong and Seonghwa showed up in matching Santa hats and red capes with white faux fur trim tied over their outfits. Much to Seonghwa’s dismay, Hongjoong let Wooyoung borrow his Santa hat, adjusting the cap so that it sat perfectly. Hongjoong missed the way Seonghwa pouted, but when Hongjoong was settled in the passenger seat, Wooyoung assured the eldest that Hongjoong was just being friendly. He perked up, remembering that that’s just how the small man is.  _ Thoughtful _ . 

At the party, Wooyuong thought it best to stay close to the two older boys. It proved helpful when he spotted San and company lurking about, clearly already drunk and talking much too loud. He ignored it for now, getting lost in his two friends' conversation about how to properly decorate for Christmas. 

"Less is more. Something classy and festive would be nice."

"That's boring, Hwa. What about reindeer figurines? Candy canes on the tree? All kinds of different unique ornaments collected over the years! It should be  _ fun _ . The real world isn't an HGTV magazine." 

Hongjoong and Wooyoung partook in a game of beer pong that concluded with a very tipsy Wooyoung who could not for the life of him remember the names of the other players, and a Hongjoong who kept stumbling over his feet only to be caught by Seonghwa. 

"Oh, shit! Hahaha." Hongjoong laughed with the brightest smile Wooyoung had ever seen on the boy as Seonghwa apprehended him with utmost care. 

"Careful, Joong. You know you can't hold your booze." Seonghwa scolded, but his expression was ever so fond. He looked at the boy like he was the sole reason the universe came to exist, and it made Wooyoung's chest constrict with something ugly and green. Still, he basked in the warmth that was the sunshine the pair emitted.

"Whatever,  _ mom,  _ I'm fine!" Hongjoong took a few cautious steps in a straight line to prove his point. Wooyoung found himself laughing along as they headed towards the kitchen in search of more liquor. 

Wooyoung enjoyed the effects of alcohol. He didn't have to think too hard, and with his senses dulled, it felt like he was floating along with the ride, devil may care. He took a shot before fixing himself a mixed drink. He’d probably forget the whole night if he continued to drink, but who gives a shit? 

Seonghwa had officially cut Hongjoong off after one more shot, though it didn't stop the smaller man from hanging onto his frame and very loudly announcing how pretty the older was. 

"Seonghwa hyung!" 

"Don't call me hyung, I am hardly older than you." He couldn't hide the blush on his cheeks, a sturdy arm resting around Hongjoong’s lower back. 

"You're  _ sooo  _ fuckin' pretty, how’re you so pretty? And kind, too. I lo-”

Seonghwa caught Hongjoong's mouth in a kiss, and Wooyoung took that as his cue to leave them to it. 

He wandered through the crowd of people and onto the makeshift dance floor, moving his hips lazily to the thumping music. He had finished his drink and was lost in the beat by the time someone came up behind him, grabbing his hips roughly and grinding against his ass. Wooyoung startled at first, quickly relaxing into the stranger's hold and pressing back against the man's crotch. 

With his mind was a haze of cheap light machines and strong vodka, any touch would’ve felt good in that moment. It was a nice escape from the stress of the upcoming finals he could hardly bring himself to study for. 

He was more drunk than he intended to be, but he let the liquor and rhythm guide his body’s movements. If there was one thing Wooyoung knew even when he was trashed, it was how to dance.

The stranger was growing harder by the minute, digging blunt nails into the fabric of Wooyoung's tight jeans to help him grind against the right spot. The song changed to something slightly slower; a song Wooyoung knew well. His body moved automatically, hips swiveling to match the more sensual pace of the music. 

Wooyoung didn't much care who the fuck he was rubbing against, he just knew that it felt good and he wanted to feel  _ something _ other than pain after a week of living in limbo. 

The stranger mouthed at his neck, sucking skin between his teeth as his hands roamed beneath the hem of Wooyoung's shirt. It felt  _ heavenly _ , like a hot bath on a cold winter day. He’d entirely forgotten the history he’d mapped on his stomach like some morbid autobiography written in blood. 

"Y’wanna take this upstairs, baby? Love th’ way y'move." The stranger whispered in his ear, barely audible over the music. 

Wooyoung's brain was processing in slow motion. He was pretty sure he knew what the other meant by 'take this upstairs' and honestly he'd be down for a good fucking right about now, his own cock having grown enough to strain against the fabric of his jeans. Something about the voice sounded familiar but he brushed it aside. There and then, all that mattered was the warm hands that held strongly onto his bare hips. It was sturdy. It was... 

"Jongho?" 

Wooyoung opened his eyes fast as lightning. He  _ definitely _ recognized the owner of  _ that _ voice, and the recognition of that name caused a shiver of disgust to run down his spine. 

Wooyoung tripped forward as he pulled away from the stranger he was almost sure was Jongho, falling hard on his hands and knees with a grunt. 

"I leave you for half an hour to grab a couple smokes and come back to you grinding against Wooyoung?! Fucking hell. What in the daytime TV drama is this bullshit?" 

That seemed to be the moment Jongho noticed exactly who it was he was grinding against, not having seen Wooyoung from the front. 

" _ Shit _ , Y’sang I ‘ad no idea. I couldn't tell from behin’. Th’ Santa hat-" 

"Shut  _ the fuck  _ up." 

A hand wrapped around Wooyoung's right arm roughly, pulling him to stand. He wobbled on his feet, double vision evening out to confirm his worst nightmare. Yeosang stood before him, rage twisting his features. 

"And just what the fuck do  _ you _ think  _ you're  _ doing, Wooyoung?" Yeosang seethed.

Wooyoung opened his mouth dumbly with the intention to speak but he was quickly robbed of the opportunity. 

"Dude I didn' know, I swear! ‘n I bet if he'd known he wouldn't’ve allowed it." 

Yeosang let go of Wooyoung's arm to rub his temples furiously. "Exactly  _ how drunk _ are you?" 

Wooyoung felt compelled to answer. "Like, prolly nine out ‘f ten." He held up eight fingers, looking at them skeptically as if they weren't cooperating but he couldn't figure out what was off about them. He moved his fingers around, trying to count to nine. 

_ Wait, why is Yeosang here? _

“Y’sang, I had no clue. Y’ gotta understand.” Jongho slurred, pleading. 

“Just shut up man.” Yeosang said, exhausted. “Come on, we’re leaving.” Jongho in arm, he turned to Wooyoung. "And  _ you _ ," the word stung like a tattoo, branding him unworthy to be called by name. "Call me when you've figured your shit out."

Wooyoung wanted to apologize, but Yeosang was already pulling Jongho away from the makeshift dance floor. 

Wooyoung furrowed his brows, contemplating why exactly the world was out to get him lately. Knowing only that he had absolutely fucked up, he stammered out of the crowd and back into the kitchen for more booze. Nothing a drink can’t fix, right?

_ What color is alcohol again? Bottle shape?  _ He couldn’t tell which bottle was which, and as he was trying to decode the beverage selection, Seonghwa showed up with a very tired looking Hongjoong attached to his hip. 

"Wooyoung, time to go." Seonghwa instructed hoarsely. 

  
  


Wooyoung spun around at the sound of his name. "Hyungs~ jus' one more drinky." 

He ignored Seonghwa’s messy hair and lost Santa hat, pretending not to notice the fact that the eldest’s button up was now inside out and Hongjoong was practically limping, lips swollen and accentuating his medusa piercing. 

" _ No.  _ No more 'drinky' I'm taking you drunkards home." Seonghwa held out his hand and Wooyoung took it, giggling all the way to the car while a disgruntled Seonghwa did his best to keep the two from falling over.

*

"C'mon, stay over! I gotta couch you can share." Wooyoung insisted, feeling bad that Hongjoong had nearly yakked all over the dash despite Seonghwa’s careful driving.

“Thank you, but we will pass.” Seonghwa answered for the pair. “I have a feeling I’m going to be nursing this one’s hangover all day tomorrow.” He cast an annoyed glance at Hongjoong, though it was as fond as it was accusatory.  _ Loving.  _

Hongjoong grunted, leaning further against the eldest. “Y’don’t need t’ take care o’ me.”

“Maybe not, but I insist.”

“Y’re such a good frien’, Hwa.” Hongjoong mumbled, heavy eyelids drooping.

“Awww, thas’ lame.” Wooyoung pouted and flopped onto the couch gracelessly, laying sideways with one leg over the back of the furniture and an arm dangling off the cushion. “Nobody likes me.” 

“That is not true, and you know it.” Seonghwa guided the 150 pound baby to sit on the floor in front of the couch. “We like you. Right, Joong?” Hongjoong nodded limply then grimaced, clearly displeased with the amount of jostling it caused to his brain. 

“There, see? Don’t be a dramatic drunk.” Seonghwa scolded gently. “Both of you stay put. I will return shortly.” 

_ But I want Yeosang to like me. I want Yeosang to… _

“He loves you, hyung.” Wooyoung slurred once Seonghwa’s footsteps had disappeared into the kitchen. “An’ clearly you like him a lot, too, so stop bein’ stupid an’ date already. He’s not sure if you like him as much as he likes you, and you’re probably feelin’ the same way, but you’ll never find out if neither one of you takes th’ first step. It’s plain to see from your interactions that you like each other more than jus' friends. I mean aside from fooling around together.” 

A small snore came from Hongjoong. Wooyoung glanced down to find the older with his chin was to his chest and head tilted slightly to the left, totally conked out. He didn’t know how much, if any, of his philosophical outburst the white haired boy had heard. He chuckled about it momentarily until something dawned on him, causing him to choke on a sob.

He really  _ does  _ love Yeosang, and Yeosang will never love him. He can't because of his work. He can't because Wooyoung is unlovable. He can’t because Wooyoung fucked up. He can't because that's just not how the world works. Wooyoung was never meant to get what he wanted. He'd learned that from a young age and if it had been true for so long, it wasn't going to stop now. 

“I suppose love truly is blindness.” He laid his arm over his face to cover the tears welling up in his lashes that threatened to spill. 

_ I'm such a fucking crybaby.  _

"Here's a glass of water and two aspirin." Seonghwa's voice broke the painful quiet. "Don't forget to study for exams next week." He hauled a semi-conscious Hongjoong to his feet. 

"Thanks, hyung."

Seonghwa flashed a smile, but he couldn't see from behind his arm. His own darkness blocking out the sun. "Goodnight Wooyoung."

"Goodnight." 

*

Yeosang laid in bed thinking about what he saw at the party. He's not exactly mad, and doesn't feel like he has the right to be, given the circumstances in which it happened. He still feels kind of hurt though. 

He likes Wooyoung way more than he wants to, way more than he  _ should _ , and he's almost more angry at Jongho for touching him than anything else. Even if all he and Jongho did was grind on each other. He knows for a fact Wooyoung nor Jongho would have done anything more, or anything at all, had they known who the other was. It sets his mind at ease, but doesn't kill the sticky pit of jealousy in his gut. 

He thinks he should text Wooyoung to let him know it's not a big deal, but he figures the other is probably sleeping. At least that's the excuse he rolls with to avoid admitting he was jealous at all, and to avoid sounding like an overbearing douche. 

Wooyoung isn't his to worry about or to be jealous over, so he just watches the numbers on his bedside clock count down the minutes until morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for your patience! I hope you've all been well and I hope the chapter was worth the wait. Let me know your thoughts in the comments, good or bad, and if you enjoy the story, leave kudos <3
> 
> As always you can find me on twitter @/AtinyBitofaMess I'm kind of antisocial but I follow back ^^
> 
> Stay safe and wear your mask!  
> Much love~
> 
> -K


	9. Relinquish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sun sets too early and the extra hours of darkness made him feel that much more alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey~  
> I don't have much to say other than I hope you like it! I didn't edit it a ton so if there are any glaringly obvious errors, let me know. Please enjoy <3
> 
> TW// mentions of self harm, mentions of homophobia

Finals week kicks off with an abysmal, anticlimactic, sad excuse of a bang. Wooyoung felt like shit for what happened with Jongho and with that piled on everything else swirling around in his mind, he couldn't possibly bring himself to focus on school. He just didn't fucking care. 

About anything. 

Even Yeosang was a faraway thought in his brain, miles in the distance like a shore he’s too lost at sea to possibly dock on. 

Thanks to Yeosang's care, the wound on his left arm and the burns on his legs were healing nicely. Wooyoung made sure to change the bandages morning and night, and was thankful he had plenty of long sleeve shirts to burn through. It wasn't the first time he'd needed them, after all, and the cold weather meant extra layers of protection against any possible prying eyes. 

He still had to be careful in the shower though, because if the water was too hot his burns would ache for a while after. He was dealing with it.

San was spreading rumors about Wooyoung across campus. People he didn't know and never talked to gave him funny looks when they passed him by. He ignored it to the best of his ability, but it was  _ so _ weird, and honestly, every backhanded comment he heard felt like being shanked in the kidney. 

*

The last thing Wooyoung felt like doing was studying. He’d rather stick a fork into a power outlet until he’s good and fried. 

_ That’s not a bad idea, actually _ …

In some act of subconscious self preservation, Wooyoung ventured out to the hardware store and returned home with two dozen plastic child safe outlet covers. He shoved one into every open electrical socket he could find in his apartment. 

Satisfied with his efforts, he sank into the couch with a sigh. Something still felt off, though. Like he hadn’t entirely staved off the hunger crawling through his veins. 

*

The sun sets too early and the extra hours of darkness made him feel that much more alone. Yeosang probably hated him, understandably. So, he took all his exams with minimal effort and the week finished without a hitch. Mostly.

He probably shouldn't have bought that bottle of rum on Tuesday, because he ended up hungover on Wednesday and then even more so on Thursday. He was probably still a little drunk when he dragged himself to class, but what did it matter? His life was never  _ his _ to begin with, so what if he fucked it up bit?

Nothing mattered. He's never going to have the career he wants. He'll never be able to love who he wants because of his parents' homophobia. His existence is solely for his parents, so he trucks on mindlessly, but he’s starting to not care whether or not he pleases his parents with his efforts. 

*

On Friday, he carried a water bottle filled with rum to his classes. If anyone noticed he was off, they didn’t say a word, busied with their exams. He left when he could to take a sip or two of the poisonous liquid. By the end of the day he was running on a solid buzz, and so what? 

Who, besides his asshole parents, would give a fuck? He only wanted one person to care, and that individual was likely laid out with some stranger balls deep in him. Who was he to judge? That's how  _ he _ met Yeosang. Still, he physically cringed at the thought. Yeosang is  _ Yeosang _ , not just some prostitute. 

*

On the way home, Wooyoung decided to stop in at the cafe and grab a coffee to fight off the lingering effects of alcohol. He was more than a little fucked up by the time he arrived and impressed with himself that he hadn’t totaled his car. Though maybe if he had, he could be enjoying the serenity of not existing. 

Yunho was there, as always, chipper, cheerful, and bright. Wooyoung wasn’t in the mood, but nodded when Yunho offered to take his break then, sensing something was up with the younger.

From one of the fake granite tables, Wooyoung watched Yunho brew his Americano, iced like his soul. Once Yunho had finished fiddling with the machines, he joined Wooyoung, a frappe of his own in hand and Wooyoung’s coffee handed off to him. 

“So what’s up dude? You seem dumpier than usual. More dumpy- I mean.. More down in the dumps than usual. That sounded bad, I’m sorry.” Yunho hid his entire face in his massive hands for a beat, sighing and settling on taking a sip from his frappe. 

“You know what I’m trying to say. How’s kicks?” 

“Kicks?” Wooyoung raised an eyebrow in confusion. 

“How are things going with you? Sorry, I’ve been watching early 1900’s documentaries lately and- anyway, what’s been up? You don’t seem like your usual self.” 

“What even is my usual self. What is life? What’s the point of it all?” Wooyoung rattled off rhetorically. 

Mid sip, Yunho’s lips parted, straw dropping from between their hold as a stupefied expression invaded his face. “What?” He shook his head lightly. 

“Okay what the hell is up, dude?”

Wooyoung took a long sip of coffee. “Sorry Yunho. Lately my brain is just… Betraying me? I think? I’m not sure, I’m still kind of- Why does everything hurt?”

Yunho furrowed his brows, something Wooyoung had never seen before. “Physically or mentally?” 

Ignoring the question, Wooyoung pressed on. "What do you do if you think you love someone, but you aren't entirely sure because you've never loved before, and you're pretty sure you fucked it up but you still want it to be a thing?"

"Uh…" Yunho folds his hands on the table in front of him. "For starters, you should figure out if you really did fuck it up or not. You don't want to just assume something, because what if they like you too?"

That hadn't really occurred to Wooyoung. 

_ What if Yeosang likes me too? As if.  _

How could he? Wooyoung is definitely not crush material, he thinks. He looks a mess most of the time, his nose isn't small enough, his heart is a shriveled mess of lost hopes and abandoned dreams, he's fat-

"And secondly, you should talk to them about whatever happened. Communication is important. Leave each other in the dark and nothing will progress." Yunho finishes, punctuating the statement with a sip of his frappe. 

Wooyoung's throat is dry, so he takes a drink of his coffee, feeling sobered. 

"Yeah, I guess you're right. How are things with the guy at the bookstore?” He redirects. 

Yunho lights up. “Oh, Mingi? I finally got the balls to ask him out, so we’re dating now.” The blush on Yunho’s pale round cheeks is obvious. 

“That’s great, I’m happy for you both.” Wooyoung hopes he sounds as encouraging as he intends to. If it was the same Mingi who worked behind the book counter, the two would be a perfect match. 

“Thanks, Wooyung. I’m just glad I don’t have to keep buying books. I don’t really read and I’ve got no place to put them anymore.” He laughs nervously, like he'd just revealed a dark secret. 

***

At home, Wooyoung took a power nap that turned into going to bed at 4pm. Apparently caffeine does nothing when you'd rather be dead.

***

On Saturday, Wooyoung remembered that winter break had officially started. He bought another bottle of rum because his first one lay empty in the recycling bin, and every time he walked by and saw it, a horrible itch erupted under his skin telling him how much better he'd feel if he was drunk. He spent the evening and night in the grips of inebriation. 

On Sunday, exam results went out. Awesome news for Wooyoung, since he got to see just how much of a disappointment he was. He  _ really _ fucked up. Royally. His highest grade was a B-, but luckily he didn't fail any of his classes. Unluckily, however, he got a call from his dad, who checked his grades more often than the weather. 

“Hello, Dad, how ar-”

“What the hell have you been doing at school to get such pathetic grades? Can you do  _ anything  _ right? Is a fucking B- the best you can do?"

At least he acknowledged Wooyoung's best grade. 

"Why did I spend that much money on tutoring such a useless imbecile.” Wooyoung’s father grumbled. 

“I’m truly sorry, father. I’ll try harder next time. I wish to bring the family success, not shame.” It was a scripted interaction, like any other Wooyoung had with his father. “May I speak to Mother?”

“Absolutely not. I don’t need her putting ideas in your already empty head.”

“But-”

“No way in hell. Not only that, but you’re staying on campus for winter break.”

Wooyoung froze. He had always gone home for christmas. “Why?” 

“To study, obviously. I paid top dollar to turn your stupid hyper ass into a star student, and I will  _ not  _ let you disappoint this family further than you already have. Over break you will eat, sleep, and breath studying. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Excellent.” 

When the phone line went dead, Wooyoung felt like vomiting. He wanted to see his mom, mare sure she was okay. Hell, she probably was, without Wooyoung around. 

Instead, he retrieved the plain wooden box containing his x-acto knife set from under his bed and set to work on his thigh.

*

Wooyoung doesn't remember when it started. His father was cold to him. Maybe, he thinks, it's always been that way. His mother tried her best to be supportive. A warm embrace to turn to when the icy chill of his father's overbearingness became too much. He thinks he was about five years old when he discovered that his parents fought over him. 

_ "You're too soft with the boy! He's going to grow up… weird!" His father roared.  _

_ "What's so bad about that? He should be his own person. He's not a clone of Howon!" His mother spoke through tears.  _

They never fought about Howon. He wonders if his parents had been happy before he was born. If he was the wrench thrown into their perfect lives, ruining their picturesque marriage with their beautiful only child. Of course, at five, he didn't understand. He wouldn't come to understand until later. He was never meant to exist. A  _ mistake _ .

Ever since he was little, Wooyoung lived in the shadows of his older brother Howon. His father wanted him to do everything that Howon did when Wooyoung was his age, probably hoping he'd turn out less  _ weird.  _ That both of their sons could be successful, ideal representations of what every parent should want their kids to be. Something to be proud of. 

But Wooyoung, oh, Wooyoung loved to dance. In grade school he had trouble focusing on his work, and wanted nothing more than to be physically active. At home, he would dance along to melodies in his mind and tunes he'd heard on the radio or TV. He was happiest in those moments. He felt free. 

His mother tried her best to support his interest in dance. His father had other ideas. It was too  _ weird  _ for him. No son of his should be dancing. His sons should be studying, excelling in academics, working towards a future of success. At eight years old, Wooyoung's father had finally had enough of his 'frolicing nonsense' and attempted to beat it out of him. 

When the aches and bruises healed, Wooyoung continued to dance in private. When his father eventually caught him, he then turned his fists on his wife for trying to defend the boy. His mother learned something called 'the path of least resistance' and began to agree with whatever his father said and did. 

Maybe she was scared, maybe she was tired, who knows. Wooyoung couldn't stand to see the bruises that usually peppered his own arms decorate his mother's delicate frame. 

Wooyoung was 9 when his mother stopped sticking up for him, and he stopped dancing. 

Wooyoung's father hired a tutor for him. They worked together after school every day, even on weekends, for years. Wooyoung's academics improved to the top of the class, and he was able to focus on his work like some kind of robot. It began to be second nature. His father told him to work harder, his mother said nothing, and in that silence he knew she wished he would become  _ enough _ for his father. Wooyoung felt like a caged bird. It became the norm. 

At 12, Wooyoung developed depression and anxiety. His parents couldn't figure out what was wrong with him, why he spent all his time holed up in his room whether or not he was studying and why he only gave short answers, always insisting everything was fine. 

When a panic attack at school sent him to the nurse, his parents refused to get him professional help or a proper diagnosis. His father believed that any 'mental illness' must have been caused by a lack of studying enough. 

Wooyoung did his best to conceal his panic attacks from then on, running to his room to count his breaths and blacking out once in a blue moon when he couldn't calm himself. He’s not sure when it got to the point that he was sad he’d woken up from his blackouts, that he thought never waking up would be easier than life. Soon enough, it was the norm.

At 14, Wooyoung discovered two things: the reality that this was his life, and self harm. He received earbuds for Christmas from his mother that year, and then listened to music with his laptop whenever he got the chance. It became his solace.

He likes to think it saved him, but he was as certain as his parents were that nothing was wrong with him. That there was nothing to be saved from. He was practically brainwashed into thinking that way, even if he hid away in his room to drag sharp objects against his flesh until blood spilled from the wounds. He learned to hide it well. 

San was a refuge. 

He met San that same year, and the two quickly became friends. San was the first true friend Wooyoung ever had, even at 14. 

His parents didn't believe in friendship. It was an unnecessary distraction from his studies. So Wooyoung lied about staying late at the library just to see his only friend. They met at least every weekend, and when Wooyoung was finally granted a phone, they texted nonstop. It was nice to have someone to talk to, even if he didn't want to admit to San that he spent late nights listening to  _ Bullet For My Valentine  _ and slicing his skin. 

One night, whilst on the phone with San, he climbed out onto his roof. The light pollution swallowed up most of the stars, but those he could still see were stunning.

They talked for what seemed like hours until Wooyoung's dad found him. He promptly hung up the call, but it didn't stop him from being pulled through the window and beaten until his bones ached and his eye was black.

The next day at school, San didn't ask what had happened. He seemed to have understood from the call being dropped, dark irises apologetic. That's just how they were. 

Nothing romantic, but something for Wooyoung to lean on.

Wooyoung's first kiss was a tall lanky boy named Junsu. They hardly knew each other, but one afternoon during outdoor gym class in the field, their lips met in a mix of curiosity and bewilderment. 

It was a short kiss, and neither of them talked to the other afterwards. It was like a final goodbye, even though they continued to see each other every Monday and Wednesday. Wooyoung was pretty sure that Junsu didn't like kissing him, but he'd learned something much more important from the experience. 

Wooyoung did, infact, like guys.  _ Only  _ guys. 

Unfortunately that wasn't something his parents would be accepting of, if their vague homophobic comments were anything go to by, so he kept it buried deep down. With the strict study schedule that was imposed upon him, they never wondered when he would get a girlfriend because they expected him never to have one. It simply wasn't allowed. 

He talked to San about the matter, finding out that he also shared an exclusive interest in boys, but San's parents were approving. They let him date who he saw fit and didn't bat an eye when he took someone home for this or that reason. He was free.

Wooyoung, however, stayed single and celibate for the remainder of highschool. That's just how things were for him. 

***

The vibration of Wooyoung's phone woke him up from the nightmare, the buzzing against the hard wood of his night stand irritating. 

He answered with a brisk "What?" Directed towards the caller, nearly shitting himself when he recognized the voice as Hongjoongs. 

“Is that any way to treat a hyung?" Hongjoong whined. 

"Oh, damn- sorry." 

“Worry not, Youngie, I just wanted to see how your break is going. I'm staying on campus.”

It was a new nickname that made Wooyoung’s skin crawl involuntarily. He'd never had a nickname before. Not before Yeosang came over to...

“It’s okay. I’m at my apartment.” 

“Oh...” Hongjoong’s voice died out as if he was expecting the younger to be at home, but something about it told Wooyoung that Hongjoong knows exactly what he’s going through. It was comforting in an inexplicable way. 

“Hyung, you’re good at dying hair, right?” Wooyoung inquired.

"Yeah, I dye my own. Why?"

"Are you free today?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that was satisfactory lol. 
> 
> Feel free to follow me! I'm antisocial but I follow back @/AtinyBitofaMess 
> 
> Comments and Kudos always appreciated :)
> 
> Stay safe and take care. See you next time!  
> -K


	10. Wake Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The realization was like Sisyphus finally being able to push the boulder over the hill, exchanging eternal damnation for a future of promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! My clown ass forgot to post this yesterday, so here it is now. We've hit a turning point in the story! Not much else to say but pleas enjoy <3

Hongjoong worked the tinting brush through the long strands of Wooyoung’s hair, spreading bleach along the locks, saturating them and working the mixture in. 

Wooyoung leaned back into the cushions of the leather couch, Hongjoong easily adjusting to the shift in angle like a seasoned professional. 

When he’d arrived, Wooyoung answered the door with a tall drink in hand that reeked of alcohol, but he didn’t mention it. It wasn’t too strange a sight for a college student at four in the afternoon during break, and he figured it best not to question the fifth of Bacardi uncapped on the coffee table next to a litre of Chilsung Cider. Wooyoung didn’t appear to be drunk, and that was good enough for him because it meant he’d at least stay still while he worked. 

“Have you ever dyed your hair before?” Hongjoong painted the last section, preparing to go in for the roots. 

“Nope.” Wooyoung sipped at his second boozy beverage of the day.

Hongjoong hummed, flipped the painted section over and reached for the back of Wooyoung’s head to begin coating the bare roots. “What made you want to change it? People usually have a reason for dying it, whatever that reason may be,” He used the long tail of the brush to partition off the next chunk of hair, securing the excess out of the way with a clip and proceeding, “Some people want change, some people are curious, some people think it will solve their problems, some are following a trend, some just like fun colors on their head. Which one are you?” 

Wooyoung chewed his lower lip, settling on honesty as a response. “I guess I want a change, I don’t know. Everything sucks, so, why not have colorful hair?” 

“So you want it to solve your problems. Well, I’ll tell you right now that won’t happen. None of life’s problems are that simple, unless of course your problem is that you need your dye job touched up.” Hongjoong punctuated the humorless joke with a tiny giggle. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right, hyung. How are you and Seonghwa?” Wooyoung promptly changed the subject. Having Hongjoong do his hair was quite like going to the hair salon, where the hairdresser would ask all kinds of personal questions and encourage pointless chatter that Wooyoung would reply to in short answers. Except he enjoyed talking with Hongjoong. The conversation didn’t feel meaningless, Hongjoong was a good listener, he seemed to actually give a fuck and he offered useful advice.

Some people would say going to the salon was akin to meeting with a therapist, and he supposed Hongjoong did have that kind of positive affect on him, mentally and emotionally. It was pleasant. 

“We- Uh,” The brush stilled in the younger’s hair, threatening to drip a spot of the chemical concoction on the dark carpet. “We started dating. Why do you ask?” Hongjoong resumed as if he’d never paused.

“Because I want you two to be happy. I want _ someone  _ around me to be happy.” Wooyoung closed his eyes, willing his brain to stay out of the dark corners and cling to the sliver of warm sunlight emanating from the window that was Hongjoong. 

“Lucky for you, we are.” If Wooyoung was facing the older, he would’ve seen the fond upward turn of his lips as he recalled his significant other. 

“I’m really happy you guys figured it out. I was beginning to think Seonghwa would have an aneurysm trying to ask you out.” 

"You knew?!" Hongjoong sounded affronted. 

"Mm, about him wanting to ask you out? Yeah, but not for that long. I'm pretty oblivious to that kind of stuff but you were both really obvious. Hookups don't act lovey dovey and domestic the way you two did." 

"Fair point." Hongjoong chuckled softly and worked bleach onto the roots of the crown of Wooyoung’s head, nearly finished with the application. “So, then, what’s up with you and Yeosang?” It was a loaded question, he knew, but he had to ask. He wasn't sure if Wooyoung had anyone else to discuss the matter with.

“We’re not really talking.” Wooyoung took a sizable gulp of his drink to dull the ache that settled too quickly in his heart at the mention of the honey brunette boy. 

_ Sunlight, sunlight, sun…. _

“Oh… Any reason in particular? If you don't mind my asking.” Hongjoong stretched a fresh shower cap over the younger’s head to keep the heat of the bleach in. 

"Things just…" Wooyoung sighed heavily, shoulders slouching to accommodate the void in his chest. "I don't think it would ever work out between us. There's no way he likes me, he  _ can't  _ like me, for a lot of reasons. Even if there wasn't any drama around us I'm still  _ me _ . Who wants to love a depressed fuck up? I don’t even know  _ how _ to love." Wooyoung set his drink down to pick at his cuticles. __

Hongjoong rounded the couch and took a seat next to the younger. "You know, I used to have those thoughts too." He swatted Wooyoung's hands to make him cease the nervous habit and took one in his own, soothing circles into Wooyoung's rough palm. "And I know it feels like a lot. It  _ is  _ a lot, and I'm sorry you're going through it. I'm always here if you want to talk about it, but I can promise you one thing. You  _ are  _ loveable, Wooyoung. If you put time and energy into seeing that, eventually you'll start to believe it. Then you won't question why people are kind to you or care about you." 

_ I'm loveable?  _

He didn’t voice the question, instead reflecting on the things that would’ve made him feel otherwise, because surely he wasn’t born feeling that way. 

There were a lot of factors, but as he was growing up, it was his father alone who took the cake. His constant barking of disappointment and endless expectations had a young Wooyoung feeling like nothing he did was good enough. He learned to be self critical before he learned to tie his shoes, and the only thing that brought him joy was frowned upon and  _ absolutely _ not to be done in his household. 

When his mother, his last thread of hope, stopped supporting his dream, he felt hopeless and alone. 

After all, he was, with his parents’ restrictions on friends and absurd study schedule. His father made it clear that he wouldn’t be loved unless he lived up to his expectations, and his mother passively stood beside him on the matter, so he did his very best to please them. 

Somehow, even in his early teen years, Wooyoung knew he’d never turn out to be someone like his older brother Howon. That he’d never earn their love and respect. 

Yet somehow, he still desired to be loved by his parents, even now that he knew there were more important things in life than your own parents’ approval. 

His thoughts shifted to his own perception of himself. Time spent looking in the mirror, some amalgamation of a person staring back at him. The body that just didn't look right to him, too soft here and there and maybe he'd look better if he lost weight. Maybe he'd be more  _ loveable _ . 

Wooyoung knew that logically and clinically, no, he wasn't fat, but a small voice in the back of his head kept saying that something wasn't right and his weight must be the answer, since at least he could control that aspect of his life.

His blood is probably 50% Coffee from how often he drinks it, but he feels no guilt in drinking the low calorie liquid, so he indulges, and the steady thump in his chest from the stimulant reminds him he's alive, if only just. He smelled good, probably, if his self care products were anything to go by, so at least there's that, but he doesn't think he's physically attractive. Not by any means. His body is not loveable, that much he is sure of. 

He thinks about his personality. He'd never really put too much thought into it before because he hadn’t needed to, and comes up short when he attempts to conjure up adjectives to describe himself as a person. He's cynical, apathetic, introverted, full of self doubt, probably a little selfish and moody. There had to be more to who he was as a person than that, though, right? Some redeeming qualities?

Lately, he wasn’t sure of much. The mundane life he’d come to know so well had more than a few unexpected wrenches thrown into it, and things were shifting. Things were feeling different. He wasn’t really certain of who he was anymore. For positive or negative reasons, for better or for worse, he was  _ feeling _ . More than just despair, he experienced  _ every  _ emotion more strongly, and it all started with Yeosang coming into his life. 

Wooyoung didn’t realize he was zoning out and holding his breath, counting the number of circles being rhythmically soothed into his palm until Hongjoong let go to firmly pat his shoulder, pulling him out of it. 

“Wooyoung, hey. Breathe. Let’s watch some TV, yeah?” Hongjoong offered a sympathetic smile, rubbing his shoulder gently to encourage the muscles to relax. It was grounding, and the older watched carefully as he went through his routine of measured deep breaths and long exhales until the tension eased, and finally, he nodded. 

*

They surfed their way through YouTube on the TV until it was time to wash out the lightener and dry Wooyoung's hair before the color application. Hongjoong picked a video of some influencer making an outfit from scratch, and Wooyoung went for one of his own taste; a video of his favorite dance team performing a compilation. 

Back on the couch, Wooyoung filled his glass with roughly two shots of rum, practically unhinging his jaw to down it all in one go like a snake would its prey. He let out an extended sigh as he set his glass down, the alcohol warming his stomach and increasing his courage by miniscule amounts. He was already buzzed, but not as intoxicated as he would like to be for the conversation he was about to strike up. 

He was also nervous, though he knew there was no need for that. Not around Hongjoong, who proved himself to be a better friend to him in the last few weeks than San had been in all the time he'd known him. He thinks maybe Hongjoong was already a better friend than San when they were just chatting idly in the library about music, procrastinating from writing their papers. 

Hongjoong was trustworthy, which is exactly why he was the ideal person for Wooyoung to talk to, and suddenly it felt like the right time. Like everything Wooyoung was holding in had built up over the years and he was bursting at the seams, but also as if it would all lodge deeper into his damaged heart if he didn't get it off his chest then and there. 

So, with Hongjoong at the ready to dye his hair, he decided it was beyond time to properly confide in the other. 

“Hyung, I want to talk about it.” 

When the floodgates finally opened, words flowed out of Wooyoung like water down a drain that hadn’t been cleared of a blockage in years, and it felt  _ so  _ good.

He told the older all about his upbringing, his parents, his depression, San, his anxiety, Yeosang, his buried aspirations.  _ Everything. _

Hongjoong listened intently, humming to affirm and prompting with short questions to keep the other going. It was Wooyoung’s time to speak, so he saved his piece for later.

By the time Wooyoung had finished sharing his whole truth, Hongjoong had finished applying the dye to the younger's hair and fixing another fresh shower cap on his head. 

Hongjoong settled next to Wooyoung again, and the look on his face when their eyes met was unreadable. It was the first time Wooyoung had experienced that from the older. Hongjoong’s eyes were glistening with moisture but he was smiling tight lipped and wide, as if trying to conceal something. Joy or pain, Wooyoung didn't know, but he was engulfed in a tight sideways hug before he could figure it out. 

“I’m proud of you.” Hongjoong praised, cheek pressed against Wooyoung's shoulder and arms wound snugly around his torso. 

“For what?” Wooyoung wheezed out from the strength with which the older embraced him. 

“For telling me your story. For trusting me to bear the burden of your troubles with you. Thank you, Youngie.” Hongjoong eased his grip on the younger before pulling away and patting his back approvingly. “It must’ve been really difficult to open up like that, and I’m glad you decided to.” His eyes were no longer shining with wet, face overtaken with a blinding smile that revealed perfectly straight, white teeth. 

For some reason, Wooyoung broke out into riotous laughter.  _ Relief.  _ He laughed until tears streamed down his cheeks and his laughs became quiet sobs that held little weight. Hongjoong was there the whole way with gentle reassurances, even though Wooyoung was crying in happiness. Had he ever cried because he was  _ happy _ ?

"Wooyoung, please don't give up on your dreams. I know your parents aren't approving but they can't stop you from being yourself. Out here, in this space," Hongjoong motioned around the apartment with his arms, "You can dance, sing, make friends, make memories and mistakes with those friends, and be as gay as you want, so long as you keep your grades up. Right? Once you're through college you can cut them off if you so chose. Hell, these days you don't even need college to get by." He placed a comforting hand on Wooyoung's shoulder. 

"What I'm saying is, I know it's hard to break away from a toxic family, and you don't necessarily have to, but you're not trapped and doomed to a miserable fate you don't want. Do things that make  _ you  _ happy, not just things that make your parents happy. You are your own person, and that's a wonderful thing. Whatever you want to do with your life, I'll be here to support you. Okay?" 

Wooyoung wiped his drying tears on his sleeve, nodding in understanding. It was like the thought had never occurred to him until now, and hearing it from Hongjoong's mouth made it seem all the more possible. A future he would  _ enjoy  _ rather than dread, and it was all up to him. 

The realization was like Sisyphus  _ finally  _ being able to push the boulder over the hill, exchanging eternal damnation for a future of promise. 

It would take time but he could do it. He just needed to keep up the facade with his parents until he would be able to support himself on his own. Hope was on the horizon, and he would chase it to the ends of the earth for a chance to live the life he’d been dreaming of since he was little.

“Fuck, I feel a thousand pounds lighter,” Wooyoung grabbed the bottle and took a swig, in celebration this time. “And it’s not because of the liquor. Well, maybe a little bit.” Wooyoung chuckled, smiling wide to match Hongjoong. “But seriously, I can’t thank you enough, hyung. How the hell am I supposed to repay you?” 

“You’ve paid me plenty just by opening up. I  _ told _ you it’s good to share what ails you. Now share some of that rum with hyung and let’s watch some dance team videos until I need to bend you over the tub.” Hongjoong playfully snatched the bottle from Wooyoung, taking a gulp and then making an exaggerated noise of satisfaction. “To wash your hair out, of course.” He winked, earning himself an amused smack on the arm from Wooyoung. 

*

Hongjoong blow dried Wooyoung’s freshly colored hair in front of the bathroom mirror, humming the tune of some nameless song. He insisted on styling his hair, so Wooyoung agreed, more than happy to oblige. It turned into an impromptu makeover session, during which the two polished off what was left of the bottle of rum and haphazardly dug through Wooyoung’s wardrobe for the perfect outfit to compliment his new hair. 

One curated outfit complete with jewelry and a face of carefully placed makeup later, Hongjoong excitedly turned Wooyoung around in the bathroom to face his reflection in the mirror. “Voila! You look absolutely magnificent!” Hongjoong was clearly more tipsy than he was, but he still pulled off a killer makeover so whatever. Minor details. 

Wooyoung looked himself over, taking in voluminous lilac hair middle parted and swooping gently away from his face. If he ran his hand through it, it would no doubt fall back into perfect alignment, fluffy and elegant. 

He was wearing his tightest pair of leather skinny jeans and a silver satin button up v-neck topped off with a black sport coat. His neck was encircled by a black velvet ribbon choker adorned with a small dangling swarovski crystal heart. His ears held two simple round swarovski studs, as well as a delicate silver chain connected to his third lobe piercing and his cartilage by silver studs. 

His eyebrows were masterfully filled and eyes meticulously lined with the faintest amount of black, accentuated by smoked out metallic grey eyeshadow. His plump lips were stained primrose pink, making the mole on his bottom lip look like a hidden gem. 

“Holy shit, Hongjoong. You’re a genius! I look  _ expensive. _ ” Wooyoung preened, mouth popped open in awe as he glanced between his reflection and a Hongjoong who was grinning wildly, clearly pleased with his latest masterpiece. 

"That you do, Youngie~ Now- hnghh." Hongjoong cut off as he was squeezed half to death by a grateful hug from the younger. 

It was partially his fresh hair and dolled up appearance, and partially his newfound clarity and hope thanks to Hongjoong, but Wooyoung felt like a new person. He released the older, who giggled like a madman and pushed him out of the bathroom and back into the living room, Wooyoung barely managing to avoid stumbling in his chelsea boots. 

He nabbed Wooyoung’s phone from the coffee table and pressed it into the younger’s chest until he took it, nearly dropping the device in the process but laughing all the same. 

“Now, like I was saying before you so  _ rudely  _ interrupted,” Hongjoong joked, “You’re going to invite Yeosang over.” He collapsed onto the couch and snuggled up in the throw blanket. “I’m just gonna rest my eyes a minute.” 

“Uhh, you sure that’s a good idea? It’s like,” Wooyoung checked his phone. “10:30 at night, and I’m not sober.” 

“But you’re not drunk either, are you?" Hongjoong spoke with a finger pointed towards the ceiling. 

"Not per se, no."

"Great! And have him bring fried chicken!  _ That's  _ how you can repay me." He was smiling wildly again, eyes still closed as he rolled onto his side. 

That sounded like a positively  _ terrible  _ idea to Wooyoung, but he did kind of owe him one for the talk, the hair dying,  _ and  _ the makeover. "Fine, but I'm calling you a cab once you get your chicken." 

"Sure, works for me." Hongjoong mumbled into the blanket. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking maybe 5 more chapters, depending on how it goes, so that's why I changed the number of chapters to 15. ^^  
> Thank you so so much if you've been sticking with me for this journey! Your support means the world to me :)   
> Comments and kudos appreciated~ 
> 
> Follow me on Twitter if you want. I'm antisocial but I follow back @/AtinyBitofaMess
> 
> Please stay safe and take care!   
> See you next time~   
> -K


	11. Full Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeosang fumbled, shying at the statement. He knew he shouldn't stay too late, but he wanted more of Wooyoung. He couldn't think of a subtle way to put it, so he settled for blunt. "Do you, uhm, want to fool around a bit first?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello~ It's been a while. I've had a lot to deal with and this chapter was at the back of my mind. Anyway, please enjoy <3

Yeosang was finishing up his shift at the diner when the call came. He wasn't necessarily surprised it was from Wooyoung, but he  _ was  _ surprised that the younger sounded like he was in a good mood when he insisted Yeosang come over to his place with fried chicken. He was glad he hadn't left the diner yet because that meant chicken was an arm's length away,  _ and  _ with an employee discount. The job didn’t pay the best but it had its perks. You gotta start somewhere, after all.

He untied the apron from his waist and put the order into the kitchen. He’d only need to wait about 10 minutes for it to be fulfilled, so he clocked out, grabbed his bag and ducked into the employee bathroom to freshen up. 

His hair was slightly frazzled from hours of work and his shirt rumpled from the relentless dinner rush. Yeosang smoothed down the flyaway hairs and straightened his white button up, making sure it was tucked properly into his slacks and unrolling the sleeves. He searched around in his bag for his coconut oil lip balm, because  _ he was going to see Wooyoung _ , and applied it liberally. With an exaggerated smack of the mouth, Yeosang deemed his reflection acceptable and exited the restroom to gather the takeout order. 

*

Yeosang’s black woolen peacoat kept him warm for the most part, but the whipping winds that decreased the temperature significantly were whipping against his scarf and threatening to whisk away his hat. He’d dressed warmly to make the walk home without becoming an icicle, and the extra few minutes to Wooyoung’s apartment felt like a trek through antarctic snow. 

But it was worth it. 

The prospect of just  _ seeing _ the younger felt too good to be real, even if he knew there was no way it was dreamt up. Almost two weeks of radio silence between them gave Yeosang a lot of time to sort out his feelings, and decide what he wanted to do with them. His decision was clear enough by the fact that he'd gotten a part time job, and though he knew it was a risk betting on Wooyoung to accept him, he wanted to take it. If Wooyoung didn't want him like that, Yeosang would understand. It was probably for the best that he got out of the business anyway. 

Most people didn't want to date a prostitute, current  _ or  _ former, not that Yeosang had ever bothered to test that out firsthand. 

He had to at  _ least  _ find out if Wooyoung cared about him in the same way he cared for Wooyoung, though he refused to label those feelings because it was all too confusing and too much to put into simple phrases. It was an inexplicable feeling of want for no good reason he could pinpoint. 

It still terrified him, and he couldn't place the exact moment he began to feel that way or why, but he was sure as shit that it was  _ real.  _ At least on his end.

Yeosang tugged his scarf up higher and shoved his hands deeper in his pockets, the bag holding the environmentally  _ un- _ friendly styrofoam container of chicken dangling from his wrist. 

He certainly had a few things to say to Wooyoung, and now was as good a time as any. 

***

In front of Wooyoung's door, Yeosang took a moment to collect himself, inhaling deeply and releasing it like he'd practiced a hundred times before. 

_ Be calm. Everything is alright. _

Maybe it was the cold of winter fraying his nerves. Maybe it was knowing that Wooyoung would be on the other side of the solid wood. Maybe it was the implication that he would admit his feelings tonight or so help him lord. 

He rapped once, twice, thrice, and held his breath. He knew Wooyoung would answer, so why was he crippled by anticipation? 

There was the metallic sound of a lock disengaging, and then the door swung open to reveal a man more breathtaking than any Yeosang had seen before. But then, wasn't that how Wooyoung always was? 

Yeosang's brain short circuited so badly you could practically see the sparks flying as his mouth parted in awe. 

"Long time no see." Wooyoung smiled shyly, nervously, and gestured for the other to enter.

"Lilac." Yeosang's fingers tightened around the handle of the plastic take out bag, because he was certain he'd drop it otherwise. "It's lilac." 

_ My favorite color.  _

"Oh, my hair? Yeah." Wooyoung grinned broadly, his previously shy expression melting into a purely joyous one Yeosang hadn't had the honor of seeing many times. It was like storm clouds parting to reveal the sun.

He would've surged forward to hug Wooyoung because  _ fuck _ , he  _ missed  _ him, but the person shaped lump on the couch made his boiling blood freeze in its tracks. "You have company?" He swallowed a lump that  _ definitely  _ wasn’t jealousy. 

"Oh! That's my friend, Hongjoong. He's," Wooyoung turned to look at Hongjoong’s passed out form. "Still asleep, apparently." Wooyoung shrugged. 

_ Friend. _ Relief rushed through Yeosang’s veins.

“Well, I have the chicken you asshats requested.” Yeosang didn’t mean to sound cold but it came out that way and Wooyoung tilted his head curiously, pristine brows furrowing. 

“I’m sorry if you had to go out of your way, but hyung insisted on me calling you and having you bring chicken, and I owe him one for giving me some really good advice.” Wooyoung stepped over to the couch and gently patted Hongjoong’s cheeks until the oldest woke up and groggily registered that Yeosang had arrived.

Yeosang detested the way his insides churned all green at the word 'hyung', because they had no reason to. He peeled off his layers and toed off his shoes to enter the apartment in full. "It's alright, Woo, really." 

He didn’t miss the red that colored the tips of Wooyoung's ears as he accepted the bag of chicken from him.

*

Once awake, Hongjoong proved to be just a friend of Wooyoung's. Thank fuck. 

"You're Yeosang? Oh, I've heard so much about you, dear. You're stunning." The small man commented before digging into a crispy drumstick, caring not for the crumbs of fried batter that decorated the skin around his medusa piercing. "I hear you and Youngie have endured your fair share of bullshit."

"I guess you could say that." Yeosang replied before biting into a drumstick of his own.

Wooyoung sat between the two on the couch, visibly uncomfortable, munching slowly on a thigh and taking the meat apart in small pieces that he chewed for longer than Yeosang would've liked. He chewed silently, pleading eyes aimed at Yeosang as if to ask him to bridge the awkward gap.

Hongjoong was the one to break the silence. "Just know that you better be good to Youngie or I'll have to kick your ass." He smiled sincerely, but the threat meant hardly anything because Yeosang was sure Jongho could snap him in half much more easily than Hongjoong could bruise him.

"Um- yeah." Was all Yeosang got out before Hongjoong dragged him into conversation about music. 

*

By the end of it, Wooyoung had eaten hardly a third of the chicken while Hongjoong and Yeosang devoured the rest, getting to know each other. It was obvious that Hongjoong was testing Yeosang, and when they finished, Hongjoong stood on slightly wobbly legs to offer his hand to Yeosang like a worrying parent. "You have my blessing, Yeosang." 

He firmly shook the hand that was offered to him. "Thank you, sir." Yeosang joked, but he was honestly happy to see that Wooyoung had someone else to care about him in that way. 

It was an hour past midnight when Hongjoong got a cab for himself, sobered up almost entirely from chicken and water forced upon him. "Good luck with your date, Youngie!" He cooed as the door closed, just to make Wooyoung panic internally.

*

"So…" Wooyoung twiddled his thumbs in his lap briefly before busying himself with cleaning up the remnants of their meal. "Do you want a drink?" He called from the kitchen.

"Aren't there always drinks involved when I see you?" 

Wooyoung fumbled a bit before deciding on a quiet ' _ yes _ ,' followed by an even quieter apology accompanied by a hang of his head. He didn't want to disappoint Yeosang.

"Hey,  _ hey _ , don't get all bent up." Yeosang stood and ventured over to the younger. "I don't mean it in a bad way. If you're drinking too much, maybe, but I know for a fact your first drink was your birthday. That wasn't even a month ago and you're a college student, so you've got time to figure out it isn't something you should do constantly." 

He sidled up to Wooyoung, tentatively placing his hands on the younger's hips as he was washing the dishes they had used. He didn't know if it was the right move, and pulled his hands away quickly when he felt Wooyoung tense up at the physical contact. He proceeded to answer the previous question. 

"Yes, I want a drink. Please. If the offer still stands." Yeosang stepped back into his own space only to find hands atop his, bringing them to rest once again on Wooyoung’s hips. 

"Yeosang…" Wooyoung spoke barely above a whisper, pressing warm palms into his hips to anchor himself lest he float away. "I missed you." The cup he was washing clattered to the bottom of the stainless steel sink. 

Wooyoung's heart was beating double time as Yeosang's arms moved around him, slowly but surely pulling him into a tight embrace. He welcomed the touch, leaning back against the older and letting his head fall back to rest on Yeosang’s shoulder. It was so easy for Yeosang to wrap him around his finger, and he didn't mind in the least. 

“All I have is rum. That okay?” He asked with closed eyes. 

“Yeah. As long as you’ve got something sweet to go with it.” 

Wooyoung's neck was exposed in a long line of glowing golden skin that Yeosang couldn't help but crane his head to get a full view of. From this angle he could see Wooyoung's throat bobbing as he swallowed. The obvious thrum in one of the prominent veins that pressed against the velvet choker and made him feel like a vampire with how much he wanted to bite into the flesh there. The muscle working as the younger lifted his head. 

“Sweet?” Wooyoung whispered, debating his next course of action. His mind told him to speak of the apple juice in his fridge, but his heart was screaming  _ Yeosang Yeosang Yeosang,  _ and knowing that he was there, wrapped in his warmth and allowed to  _ touch _ got the best of him.

He spun around in Yeosang’s arms to place a soft kiss upon unexpecting lips. 

Without thought Yeosang melted into the kiss, easily coaxing a timid Wooyoung into parting his lips and deepening it. It was like the first rainfall after a long drought; not quite enough to quench the parched lands but just enough to keep the vegetation from dying off completely. Still, it was sweet relief. 

When they parted, Yeosang pressed their foreheads together. "I missed you too, Wooyoung. You've been on my mind." 

Wooyoung blushed to match the red on Yeosang's cheeks, nestling his face into the crook of Yeosang's neck and kissing the skin there, featherlight. 

"You wanted a drink?" He said when he resurfaced, a smile adorning his face. 

"Y-yeah, please." Yeosang found himself stuttering out. Wooyoung was many things, but predictable was not one of them. 

*

Yeosang sipped his concoction of apple juice and rum from a fresh bottle Wooyoung had pulled from under the sink with a guilty half grin. "For emergencies." He’d lied.

Wooyoung's own drink was black coffee and rum in a glass of ice, which had Yeosang cringing every time he watched the younger take a sip without so much as a grimace. He could only imagine how bitter it tasted.

They sat on the couch, awkward atmosphere rekindled by the space and quiet between them after such a simple act of intimacy. Like clockwork, Wooyoung began to worry if he was the issue. 

_ Was that too soon? He didn't push me away, so-  _

"I got a part time job." 

"You what?" Wooyoung asked in a tone of disbelief, turning bodily towards the older at breakneck speed and sending little droplets of liquid sloshing over the edge of his glass. That wasn't important though. Not now. 

"I got a job at a 24hr diner nearby. Three days a week, I'll be waiting tables." Wooyoung just stared in astonishment, so he kept talking to fill the silence. "I had actually just gotten off work when you called, hence the outfit." Yeosang fiddled with the cuffs of his dress shirt, openly uncomfortable and not used to the attire that wasn’t his usual hoodies and jeans. The sleeves were too long, like most of his shirts, and wrinkled up to the elbow as if they'd recently been rolled up for a long period of time. "I haven't worn slacks since graduation." He chuckled nervously into the space between them. 

There were a million things running through Wooyoung's head. He wanted to surge forward and grab onto Yeosang. Speak praises into his hair, tell him how happy he is to hear that. But he couldn't be sure of the older's reasoning, so instead he retired his glass to the table and asked a simple 'why.'

“I’m getting sick of sleeping with lonely douchebags. I mean, sex is fun, but I can’t do it as a job forever.” Yeosang could’ve told the truth about how every touch had felt like being skinned alive since he first met Wooyoung, and that it had only gotten worse over time, but he didn’t think the younger needed to hear the specifics of it.

"That's…" Wooyoung wasn't sure exactly what he should say. That one hopeful ember Hongjoong had planted in his chest earlier smoldered, threatening to ignite all the delicate tinder of his heart and burn it to ash if he wasn't careful with his words. If he got too excited, said something that might push Yeosang away, that would be that. He wasn't quite ready to take that chance. Not when Yeosang was sitting before him, thumbing at his shirt cuffs with an expectant look on his beautiful face. "That's awesome, Yeosang. I'm happy for you." He broke into a bright grin, grabbing his glass to raise it. "Cheers to new beginnings?" He asked tentatively. 

Yeosang took his own glass in hand and raised it to meet Wooyoung's, fang-like canines on display with his full toothed smile. "Cheers!"

They sipped their drinks as they conversed about what's been up in their lives since they last saw each other. Even if it hadn't been very long, it still felt like a lifetime. Yeosang came to know why Wooyoung was still on campus, and Wooyoung heard about Jongho’s latest sexcapade that ended with Yeosang doing a mini intervention on the youngest and teaching him about standards. 

"I guess it goes without saying at this point, but I’m sorry. For the whole Jongho thing.” 

“Eh, don’t worry about it. It definitely caught me off guard, but that shithead would hump a rock if it'd get him off.” Yeosang laughed full bellied until Wooyoung joined in. 

The TV remained off for the duration of their conversation, and when it slowed to a comfortable silence, glasses empty, Wooyoung chanced a look at his phone. "It's past midnight, should you be getting home?" He knew Yeosang wasn't one to overstay his welcome, even if he was more than welcome to stay. 

Yeosang fumbled, shying at the statement. He knew he shouldn't stay _too_ late, but he wanted more of Wooyoung. He couldn't think of a subtle way to put it, so he settled for blunt. "Do you, uhm, want to fool around a bit first?" 

He would understand if Wooyoung said no. They'd discussed some heavy topics that weren't exactly boner material, so the fact that he couldn't convince his brain to shut up about wanting  _ more  _ of Wooyoung was perplexing, but he still thought it worth the risk to ask. 

Wooyoung's expression went serious as he pushed a hand through his hair,  _ beautiful, _ then scooched closer to Yeosang until their knees touched. 

_ Of course I want to, are you fucking kidding me?  _

His pulse ramped up, a quick yet steady  _ Yeosang Yeosang Yeosang  _ thundering in his chest again. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't entertained the thought a few times, and maybe entertained himself  _ to  _ the thought on at least two occasions. But he didn't want to appear over eager. Physical pleasure was low on the list of reasons he wanted Yeosang in his life.

"Are you sure you want to?" 

"Why would I ask if I didn't want to?" Yeosang hid his flush behind his sleeve. "Dummy." The term was endearing,  _ loving _ , even if he tried to convey a harsh tone. 

"Then yes. Yeah, I'd," Wooyoung paused to breathe in, trembling at the implication while he exhaled his confirmation with closed eyes. "Yeah, I'd like that very much." He spun the choker around his neck until the clasp was in the front, shaky hands trying and failing to undo it. 

Feeling gutsy, Yeosang leaned into his space and steadied himself with hands on Wooyoung's shoulders, nudging the younger's chin up with his nose. Wooyoung made a small noise in the back of his throat and held his breath, confusion won out by curiosity. He felt Yeosang's lips ghosting over his neck, heard the sound of metal on enamel,  _ teeth _ , and then the velvety ribbon slid free.  _ What the-  _

When Yeosang pulled back, he was inches from Wooyoung's face, the jewelry dangling from between his teeth and his pupils blown. He let the necklace drop into the younger’s lap. Wooyoung was going to have a fucking  _ stroke. _

The scent of freshly dyed hair, expensive cologne, and lingering coffee on Wooyoung's skin was enough to make Yeosang ravenous despite recently eating. There was a hint of rum in the mix, only slight compared to the other smells, and he couldn't stop himself from surging forward to capture ripe cherry lips. 

Wooyoung drank in the taste of Yeosang, the familiar sweetness he could never place washing over him in warm waves. It was all he could do to kiss him harder, a messy ballet of tongue that ended only when they could no longer discern which taste came from whom. 

As they parted, a little breathless, the line of spit connecting their tongues broke, and Yeosang found himself diving back in to collect it from the younger's lips. He sucked Wooyoung's bottom lip into his mouth, earning a debauched hum from the younger. He moved forward to straddle Wooyoung's lap, the younger's hands finding purchase on his hips, nails digging in to pull him down onto his thighs.

When he offered his tongue, Yeosang sucked that too, dragging a pathetic whine from Wooyoung. Yeosang shifted closer to press their growing lengths together, weight settling heavy on Wooyoung’s wounded right thigh. 

Wooyoung tapped out, breaking the kiss and adjusting the older to rest further down his thighs once more. Concern briefly flashed across Yeosang’s face before Wooyoung deflected. 

"How did you?.. My choker.” Wooyoung breathed out, wrecked.

"When you're in the trade, you learn a few tricks." Yeosang grinned. "Now please, be quiet." He pressed his palm to Wooyoung's chest, easing him down until his head met the armrest of the couch. His hand lingered for longer than necessary with no protest from Wooyoung, who stayed still and let his heart do the talking that Yeosang seemed keen to listen to.

Flush bloomed on Yeosang's cheeks when he realized what he was doing, and now it was his turn to deflect. "Bed. Let's do this on the bed, yeah?" 

*

Wooyoung undid the buttons of Yeosang's shirt one by one, making a show of kissing the newly revealed skin as he made his way down until the garment was fully open. Yeosang let him take his time, emitting little sounds that he muffled into the cuff of his sleeve. 

Shirt discarded, Yeosang's skin was the human embodiment of moonlight. “You’re like the moon.” Wooyoung shouldered off his jacket and cast it to the floor. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He watched Wooyoung pull his shirt overhead, hair a little mussed from the action. As he waited for a response, he studied the curve of Wooyoung's collarbones, memorizing the slope with the tips of his fingers. 

"I can’t really explain it, you just… glow.”

"How poetic," Yeosang sarcastically commented, but the notion made him beam as he dragged the other down to his lips. “You’re cute.” He whispered, exchanging unhurried kisses while nimble fingers worked Wooyoung’s pants off. His thumbs slid across gauze as he lowered the waistband down golden thighs, and though he immediately knew what it was covering, he didn’t ask. He knew Wooyoung wouldn’t want him to. 

Instead, he finished undressing the both of them. Wooyoung was grateful. 

Now Yeosang hovered over him, Wooyoung's fingers laced into caramel hair and mewling with each tease of teeth against the column of his throat. He tilted his head in silent questioning, Yeosang obliging and sucking a mark into the flesh. He licked over the spot and trailed open mouth kisses down to the base of Wooyoung’s neck, to which Wooyoung whined. "Bite,  _ please."  _

Yeosang's tongue followed the path of Wooyoung's jugular up briefly before he settled on a spot below his jaw, sinking his teeth in carefully, testing the waters. 

Wooyoung shivered bodily beneath him, a moan falling past his lips. "Harder,  _ please _ , Yeo." His grip tightened in Yeosang's hair. 

"Since you asked  _ so  _ nicely." Yeosang teased, pretending the nickname didn't make his heart flutter and biting roughly into a new patch of skin. 

Wooyoung let loose a ruined sounding moan.

Yeosang dove back in just to hear more. 

*

Yeosang pushed Wooyoung's legs up towards his chest and instructed him to hold them there. The task was easy enough, but Wooyoung faltered when he felt the damp of Yeosang's flattened tongue lick a stripe from his entrance up to his balls. Yeosang simply braced his hands on Wooyoung’s legs to keep them in place and resumed toying with his hole, occasionally darting his tongue into the pucker to pull a whine from the younger. 

His slicked finger glided in easily, as did the second and third when Wooyoung begged for more. Yeosang scissored him open with adept skill, stopping only when he cried out for more. To  _ feel  _ him. 

Condom on, Yeosang pushed into the tightness inch by inch until Wooyoung was stuffed full. When Wooyoung's heavy breaths evened out, he rocked his hips slowly, fucking into him gently until he asked for more, yet again. 

Yeosang fucked into him rough as if it was the first time, reveling in the noises the younger produced. 

"Y-Yeosang,  _ ahh _ ." Wooyoung moaned out, hands tangling in the sheets. He kept going until Wooyoung's words became pleasured garbles, his cock leaking precum onto his stomach. 

Yeosang pressed a thumb into Wooyoung's mouth, Wooyoung taking it in eagerly and sucking at the digit. 

"So good for me, Woo. So pretty. I love your new hair color." 

Wooyoung hummed, plump lips secured around Yeosang's thumb, cock twitching to leak more precum and eyes opening just enough to meet Yeosang's.

Yeosang pulled his thumb away, hiking Wooyoung's legs over his shoulders and fucking deeper into him, bending him nearly in half to kiss him messily. 

The new angle had Yeosang battering his prostate like a ram, drawing pitiful whines from Wooyoung, breaking their kiss.

"P- _ please,  _ fuck-  _ close. _ " Wooyoung muttered after a while, hands coming up to latch onto Yeosang's back.

"Yeah?" Yeosang panted out, rocking his hips faster. "You gonna cum for me?"

He pushed Wooyoung's legs back further, until his knees met his chest, and bit harshly at his neck.

There was a stuttered cry of something Yeosang couldn’t entirely understand, and then Wooyoung was cumming in surges onto his abdomen, nails digging faint trenches absentmindedly into Yeonsang’s back. 

Somehow it was unlike his past experiences, burrowing into him deeper than Wooyoung's nails. Because it was  _ him.  _

“Oh-oh _ shit _ , Wooyoung-” With a shuddered breath Yeosang came, rolling his hips slowly into Wooyoung as he rode out his orgasm, release filling the condom.

Wooyoung remained wordless, eyes half lidded and mouth open to welcome his next kiss. 

*

After Yeosang took the initiative to clean them up, they laid on Wooyoung's bed, in pajamas from his clean laundry, relaxing. 

"Does your apartment allow smoking?" 

Yeosang asked. 

"Not really, but you can smoke out the window If you want."

“Sweet.” Yeosang sat on the bed, Wooyoung's head in his lap, cigarette easing the strain fo sex from his bones. He blew a puff of smoke out the window the bed was up against. 

It was a full moon, and Yeosang smiled to himself, petting Wooyoung's hair mindlessly with his free hand. It was uncharacteristically domestic, and where Yeosang would normally go running to the hills from such a feeling, he strangely found comfort in it all. The head resting in his crossed legs, the arm loosely circled around him, the warm, even puffs of breath against his lower stomach. 

When he finished, he snuffed his cigarette out in a nearby empty can of chilsung cider and laid down.

With Wooyoung wrapped up in his arms and pressed against his side, Yeosang felt warm and cozy. The weight of Wooyoung's head on his chest was comforting, and he fell asleep easily in the unfamiliar bed.

For the first time, Yeosang spent the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has been so slow going lately. 
> 
> Comments and kudos greatly appreciated! 
> 
> Feel free to follow me on Twitter. I'm antisocial but I follow back :)   
> @/AtinyBitofaMess 
> 
> Take care and see you next time ^^
> 
> -K


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